


Stay a While

by TheReluctantShipper



Series: By Invitation Only [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bloodplay, Dark Past, M/M, Past Brainwashing, Past Child Abuse, Past Torture, Sex, Technically Dean Dies but He Likes It, Vampire Castiel, Vampire Dean Winchester, because they're vampires and whatnot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 18:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheReluctantShipper/pseuds/TheReluctantShipper
Summary: Ghosts from Castiel's past are threatening everything he holds dear and the truths by which he lives. How long can he keep those truths from Dean? And will Dean still look at him the same way when he finds out?Side order of Dean's Emotional Constipation (TM), Castiel's Chronic Bad Self-Esteem (TM), and Charlie being a badass in all things.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> \- This is (obviously) a work of fanfiction. I don't own anything but the original characters. I don't claim ownership over the characters or storyline of the TV show Supernatural, no matter how grateful I am for them, which is hella.
> 
> \- No posting schedule, because I am a garbage person comprised of garbage, and cannot commit to anything but my husband.
> 
> \- Thanks to the Sister Husbands, who are my best friends in the whole world, and happen to be gracious enough to also beta most of my works for me. I don't know what I'd do without you girls, but I certainly wouldn't be doing this.
> 
> \- You can come see me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thereluctantshipper) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheReluctantSh1?s=09) if me sharing fan edits and bitching about writer's block floats your boat.
> 
> \- I come by any mistakes here honestly, but feel free to point them out so I can correct them.
> 
> \- WARNING: If you're here because you loved [Come On In,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12970212) please read this carefully. The characters are the same, and I'm hoping to keep the fluffiness as much as possible, but this story is **dark.** It deals with some things I didn't anticipate when I started dropping hints about Cas' past in COI, so if that's not your jam, please read the tags. If you're still worried, feel free to drop me an email at thereluctantshipper@gmail.com and I'll give you any information you need to stay safe.  <3 Love y'all. Be careful.
> 
> \- Feedback is life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **\- TRIGGER WARNING** in the end notes. Please scroll down to read it or proceed with caution.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Are you _certain?”_

_“Cas.”_

“I need you to be sure, Dean.”

“I’m _sure,_ I’m _sure,_ Jesus.”

A deep breath. “All right. Everything is arranged?”

“I’m signed up for remote classes for next semester, and Charlie says that doing that for the semester after won’t be a problem. Sammy and Bobby know, and Sam’s teaching the old man how to Skype. Benny and Ash think I’m studying abroad.”

“Very good.” Another deep breath. “Very good.”

“Cas… Are _you_ sure?”

 _“I’m_ not the one about to die.”

“Yeah, all right, point. But you’re stalling.”

“I most certainly am not.”

“Ca, if you don’t want to do this, or if you’re uncomfortable with it, we can find someone else to-” A loud, rumbling snarl. “... _Okay,_ then, Mr. Possessive.”

“... My apologies.”

“The hell was that?”

“I find the idea of someone else turning you undesirable.”

A snort. “‘Undesirable.’ I thought the whole ‘bond between sire and child’ thing was a myth.”

“It is.”

“... Okay. Wanna elaborate?”

“Quite frankly, the idea of someone else biting you makes me want to tear someone’s throat out.”

“... Goddamn, Cas.” The response is breathy.

“Indeed.”

“Don’t be smug. If it’s not because you’re having second thoughts, why are you stalling?”

“I’m not-”

_“Cas.”_

“I find that I am… Incredibly nervous.”

“Dude. You’re not the one who’s about to _die._ Why are you nervous?”

“Dean.” His voice is thick. “If I were to lose control, if I were to _hurt_ you, I would never be able to live with myself.”

“Cas,” his voice is soft, gentle, “Cas, baby. _I_ trust you.”

“I don’t know if I trust myself.”

“Well, then, trust _me.”_ A rustling sound, one body moving closer to another. “Baby, _please._ I want this with you. I want it to be you.”

One last deep breath. “Of course, Dean. Lie back against me and we’ll get started.”

* * *

Dying is a lot colder than Dean Winchester thought it would be. He probably should have expected it, but as his limbs fail and his eyelids grow unbearably heavy, he’s surprised at how cold he is.

He has no idea how long they’ve been here. He’s sitting on a bed, leaning back against Cas. They’re not in his bed, he doesn’t think so, anyway. He doesn’t remember. They went somewhere for this, somewhere safe, but the knowledge is slipping away with his lifeblood. The only thing he knows for sure know is Cas, Cas’ cold chest behind him, Cas’ strong arms holding him up, Cas’ lips at his neck.  
  
The draining sensation is slowing down now, and it’s getting hard to breathe.  
  
“C… Cas…”  
  
_It will be frightening,_ a deep voice from a memory he can barely grasp assures him.  
  
_Were you scared? When it happened to you?_  
  
_… Yes. I was petrified._  
  
His eyes have been closed forever, now, and moving is something he distantly remembers as an option. He slumps forward, completely unable to control his descent. He’s vaguely grateful for the cold bands that keep him from falling more, falling forever in darkness.  
  
He feels, as if it’s going on very far away, a sort of _withdrawing_ happening to him, but it’s unimportant. He’s much more focused on the fear, the terror.  
  
_I don’t want to die._  
  
He realizes with an extremely delayed panic that he _doesn’t want to die._ He has to be there for Sam, and someone’s going to take care of Bobby as he ages, and Cas. He needs Cas, and Cas needs him, and it doesn’t matter to him that Cas is a vampire because Cas is the _best_ and Cas is…  
  
A vampire.  
  
Something is pressed to his lips and he can tell that it’s been torn open. Something wet and _burning hot_ is smearing onto his mouth, his chin.  
  
“Dean,” a soft, urgent voice murmurs in his ear. “If you don’t want to die, you have to drink.”  
  
He wants to, he _wants_ to. He doesn’t want to die, he’s twenty-fucking-three, for fuck’s sake. He wants to _live._ He wants to watch Sammy grown up, he wants to harass Bobby. He wants to be Charlie’s best man at her lesbian wedding. He wants to watch Ash take over the world.  
  
_Cas._ He wants to be with Cas. He wants to watch him smile and laugh and frown and concentrate and eat and hunt and sleep and read. He wants to be with Cas forever.

_Forever._

“Dean,” the voice is panicking. “Dean, you have to drink.”  
  
Dean draws up every ounce of will he’s ever had in his _life_ and uses all of it to let his mouth fall open against the wet flesh pressed against it. Coppery liquid floods his mouth, so hot it feels like it’s boiling against his tongue, but he accepts it greedily. Some instinct is telling him that he needs it.  
  
He’s maneuvered until he’s flat on his back, but he ignores the hands that guide him to a comfortable position and focuses on drinking deep. The warm liquid is burning him up and he can feel his insides shifting and flexing in a way he’s not familiar with. It scares him a little, but death scares him more, so he finds himself reaching up to clasp whatever it is _(an arm, it’s a muscular arm)_ with one hand weakly and pressing his teeth to the flesh to draw more of the liquid _(blood, it’s blood)_ into his mouth.  
  
Something runs through his hair. “You’re doing so well, dearheart,” the voice whispers. “I’m so proud of you.”  
  
Dean would preen if he could focus on anything but the blood he’s pulling from the arm, Cas’ arm.

With that thought, the sudden awareness of who he is, what's he becoming, and where he is comes flooding back to him.

Unfamiliar fangs drop from his gums and sink into the arm held to his lips, both by his own iron grip and by Cas himself. At the same time, he feels his heartbeat shudder to a complete stop.  
  
His eyes snap open, and he’s drowning, drowning, drowning in the crystalline blue of Castiel’s eyes in his first moments of eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW:** Dean dies in this chapter. It is described in detail.


	2. Chapter Two

_ “Cas.” _

Castiel smiles wickedly and adds a second finger when he thrusts again into Dean. He watches hungrily as his lover cries out and arches into the stretch. Castiel leans down to press a kiss to the dimples just above Dean’s ass. “So beautiful.”

Dean huffs out a breathy laugh. “Oh, my  _ God. _ Stop trying to have a chick-flick moment with me while you’re two fingers deep.”

With a deep growl, Cas surges forward until he blankets Dean’s body with his own. At the same time, he pushes a third lubed finger into the boy. Dean chokes on his next inhale, shuddering in Cas’ iron hold.

One of the benefits of turning Dean, one of the  _ many _ benefits, is that Dean is just as strong and impervious to damage as Castiel himself is. Which is advantageous because Cas can be as rough as he desires now.

And dear God does Dean like it  _ rough. _

“What about now?” he snarls in Dean’s ear. He doesn’t give him a chance to answer before he pulls his fingers out and savagely thrusts them back in. He angles them so he’s brushing against Dean’s prostate.

Dean cries out again and bucks.  _ “Cas!” _

“What about now, Dean? What about when I’m fucking you with three fingers instead of two? May I have your permission to have a  _ moment _ with you now?” He punctuates his question with another jab at Dean’s prostate.

After years of getting to sleep with his lovely Dean, Cas knows his partner inside and out. He knows how far to push Dean and how far he’ll push back. So he also knows how Dean will react to being provoked.

As such, he manages to not fall completely off of the king-size bed they share when Dean bucks him off, but it’s a near thing. Instead, he rolls to his back and watches hungrily as Dean turns and knee-walks over until he’s straddling Cas’ hips.

Dean is rolling his eyes irreverently. “You’re such an asshole,” he says, but the blush that’s spread across his chest and up his neck reveals his arousal as surely as his hard, leaking cock.

“There’s a simple -  _ ah _ \- solution,” Cas gasps out as Dean reaches back to wrap clever fingers around his cock.

“Oh yeah?” Dean slowly starts to sink down, enveloping Cas in warmth.

Cas lets his hands settle on Dean’s still-slim waist, his fingers tightening there with more force than he’d have dared when Dean was human. He loses a moment as he stares up at Dean. Even in vampirism, he’s all golden skin and warm green eyes and a bright, sly smile. The darkness, the  _ chill _ of death has hardly touched Dean at all.

Overwhelmed by the breadth of emotion in his chest, not to mention the tightness around his cock, his voice comes out a bit strangled. “You can let me call you lovely as many times as I wish,” he says, shuddering as Dean sinks down completely until his ass rests on Cas’ hips.

Dean chuckles and Cas feels it everywhere.  _ “Jesus, _ Cas. Still like a dog with a bone.” Dean’s voice is fond, steady even, as he raises up and sinks back down.

Cas just hums his agreement and watches as Dean finds a rhythm. For now, Castiel is content to watch as Dean chases his pleasure. He is, as always, fascinated by the way Dean moves, the way his muscles shift beneath his skin. The urgency of his own orgasm fades as he lies in awe of Dean.

Dean whimpers and Cas manages to pull his gaze away from the sight of Dean’s cock bobbing with his every movement and looks up into Dean’s eyes. A myriad of emotions dances in their green depths, lust, affection, desperation, mirth, and defiance. His complexity has always made Dean even more beautiful, and now is no exception.

Without saying a word, Dean lets his head fall to one side. He’s panting as he does so, and his fangs are visible in his enticingly open mouth.

The silent request  _ (demand) _ is one that Cas will always understand, always acquiesce to.

He surges up and wraps his arms firmly around Dean, holding him close. Now that they’re evenly matched for strength, every time Dean lets Cas hold him means more.

One hand cradles the back of Dean’s head, and he feels one of Dean’s hands mirror it. He presses his nose to the big vein pumping blood in Dean’s neck and inhales Dean’s scent sharply. An involuntary growl is pulled from his throat. Because of Dean’s youth, they go the extra mile to make sure he’s always well-fed. Cas does the same, both so Dean doesn’t feel isolated every time he has to feed, and for moments like  _ this. _

Cas lets his own fangs descend, still having more control over them than Dean has over his. He wastes little time, especially when Dean seals his mouth at Cas’ neck and bites down.

Cas groans at the feeling of Dean’s fangs in his neck combined with the new flavor of Dean flooding his mouth. It’s a familiar sensation, they rarely couple  _ without _ biting one another since Dean turned, but it never fails to make him a little bit insane.

Dean, enthralled with the act of feeding and being fed from, has stopped moving. That’s all right, though, because it means Cas can roll them over until Dean is on his back. He’s careful to keep Dean’s legs from twisting awkwardly and to make sure neither set of fangs is dislodged.

If he could see Dean’s eyes from this angle, Castiel knows that his pupils would be blown wide with lust for blood, and for Cas. Because of his age, once they get to this point, Dean is almost animalistic, mindless in his want. He’s not self-conscious or hesitant in the least. If Cas pulls out, he’s quite sure Dean would go as far as causing physical harm until he got what he wanted. It’s one of the reasons newly turned vampires can be so dangerous.

But Cas is here to sate Dean’s desires, and he adores it.

Dean is growling deep in his chest as Cas starts fucking him again. His long, bowed legs come up to wrap around Cas’ waist, limiting his range of movement but allowing him deeper. He sets a brutal pace, one that would hurt Dean if he was still human. The growl in Dean’s chest changes pitch until it’s a hitched whine. Castiel feels Dean’s ass rippling around him and knows he’s close.

He changes the angle of his thrusts one more time, striking Dean’s prostate. Dean starts to cry out as much as he can with his fangs sunk into Cas’ neck, and Cas clamps his own jaw down as he feels his own orgasm start to crest.

Pleasure washes over him, making him blind and deaf to everything but  _ Dean. _ He feels himself pumping into Dean, spilling deep inside him. Cas shudders and moans at the way Dean’s ass tightens around his cock when Dean comes apart beneath him.

He comes back to himself slowly, and as soon as he’s able, he pulls his fangs from Dean’s neck and gently licks at the wounds. The magic in his saliva has them healing in moments. Once he’s satisfied, he begins whispering in Dean’s ear.

“Come now, dearheart, come back to me. That’s it, you’re doing so well, love. Come back to me, Dean.”

As he is in everything, Dean has been remarkable through his adjustment to this faux-afterlife. He’s already able to be around humans without posing a threat, but when they feed on one another during sex, he sometimes loses himself.

Castiel doesn’t mind. Dean has always come back to him, and Cas will be here to call him back until either the end of time or Dean doesn’t want him anymore.

Whichever comes first.

* * *

 

After a shower, when they’re cleansed of blood and other fluids, Cas follows Dean downstairs into the big, airy kitchen. He’s watching a stray drop of water slowly make its way down Dean’s neck, so he doesn’t actually _see_ the face that Balthazar makes at their “obviously just got out of a shared shower” appearance, but he hears it in the other vampire’s voice.

“Are the two of you completely devoid of shame?”

“Yep.” Dean’s voice is cheerful.

Cas finally looks up to see Sam sitting at one end of their dining room table with books, pens, papers, and folders scattered around him. His shaggy hair is wild, going in every direction in a mess that rivals Cas’ own constant bedhead. The poor boy has circles beneath his eyes and his shoulders are tight with tension, but the disgusted face he makes at the two of them is genuine.

“Gross.”

Dean shrugs on his way to the kitchen. “Cas and I are doing something beautiful and natural, Sammy, nothin’ to be squicked by.”

“Dean, you’re _vampires._ Who had _shower sex._ There’s literally nothing natural about it.”

Dean thinks for a beat, then shrugs. “Point.” He examines his younger brother with a frown. “Coffee?”

Sam picks up the mug and waves it in the air in silent agreement even as he looks back down and gets sucked into studying once again. Dean rolls his eyes and makes a face, but takes the cup and goes into the kitchen proper to pour coffee for both Sam and himself. While he doesn’t need it, and the caffeine doesn’t affect him nearly as much, Dean still clings to the routines he had when he was human. Cas doesn’t mind.

Balthazar is eyeing Sam with distaste from the other end of the table. “You know, all work and no play makes Sammy a dull boy.”

“It’s Sam, and all work and no play is gonna make Sam a lawyer,” Sam corrects without looking up.

It’s probably a bit counter-intuitive for a houseful of vampires to have followed a human child to California, which is famous for sunshine and beaches. If they were going to leave Kansas, it would have made more sense to go to South Dakota where Bobby Singer lives.

Dean, however, was unwilling to let Sam go alone when he got accepted to Stanford, _especially_ with all of the trouble they’ve been having with the Lightbringers, who are very much still at large. When the idea of following Sam was presented, Gabe made a lot of noise about how good the food is in college towns. Balthazar ruminated on all of the young, tan, _willing_ bodies available for debauchery. Cas has always just wanted to be where Dean is, but he suspects that his companions are still wary not only of the Lightbringers, but because of the events surrounding Dean’s kidnapping by Alastair. There must have been a reason they both stayed in Kansas, after all.

He will never be able to tell them out loud how much he appreciates it that they’ve come, the loyalty they’ve shown. Not only because they wouldn’t hear it, anyway, but because there are no words.

He also suspects that Sam would have complained more about being trailed to California, but when the final information came through about what his scholarship would cover and housing wasn’t on the list, he quieted his grumbling and moved into one of the guest bedrooms of Cas’ California home, conveniently only a few miles away from Stanford.

_(“Cas, why the fuck do you, a vampire, have a house in California?” “I like the beaches.” “The beaches.” “At night, of course.”)_

Once Dean graduated with his own degree, he sat Sam down and told him the truth about vampires, werewolves, and the supernatural. He laid everything out for the boy, whose eyes got wider and wider the longer Dean talked. Once Dean finished, Sam sat in silence for a few moments before the yelling began. As far as Dean has come with his therapy (Cas thanks whatever deities are listening for Dr. Moseley every day), he still doesn’t do well with loud confrontation. He got right back into Sam’s face, matching Sam shout for shout. They ignored Cas’ attempts to calm them down until Sam stormed out of the room, intent on finding Bobby and “getting someone who’s not _boning_ one of us to be _impartial.”_

Cas knows the accusation hit Dean hard, but pride swelled in him when Dean just buried his face in Cas’ neck and hid there until Sam dragged Bobby back into his own living room (they were visiting in celebration of Dean’s graduation when “the talk” occurred). Dean didn’t pull away, run, or try to put unnecessary and painful distance between himself and Cas, but instead gripped his hand hard when he faced his brother and uncle.

Upon an explanation, Bobby rolled his eyes and told Sam to suck it up. Not that he didn’t have cause to be upset and scared, but if he was going to be mad at Dean, he would have to become angry with Bobby himself, too. When faced with that prospect, Sam instead calmed down, let go of his anger, and insisted he be allowed to help with the Lightbringer research.

So now they stay here, in Cas’ home in California. It’s an extremely light place, with light-colored woods and white walls and big windows. The windows have been treated to block UV rays, so while it’s not always comfortable to be sitting in direct sunlight, the vampires move about the house with ease in the daytime.

Before Balthazar can respond to Sam’s sass, Gabe saunters into the dining room. He’s wearing what Cas is relatively certain is a women’s pink silk robe that barely hits the middle of his thighs. It’s also only sort of tied closed, so more of him is on display than is not.

Unfortunately for Gabriel’s flair for the dramatic, everyone who lives there is far too used to his antics. Dean doesn’t bat an eye as he returns from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee, placing one in front of Sam. Sam doesn’t even look up from his work, just wraps his hands around the mug and grunts his thanks. Balthazar is still making faces at Sam.

Gabe sighs, irritated. _“Ugh._ Everyone here is a stick in the mud.” He glares around at all of them. “If no one’s going to mention how wonderful I look today, will you at least tell me if we’ve made any progress as far as Crazies ‘R’ Us?”

Cas finally steps out of the doorway and places his laptop on the table a couple of places down from Sam. He actually started the day by doing research like he was supposed to. Dean, while he needs less and less every day, still needs to sleep regularly. Cas usually joins him, but there was work to be done. He was sitting against the headboard, absorbed in the work on his laptop when he’d felt fangs nipping at his thighs.

Things… _Deteriorated_ from there.

The way Dean is smirking tells Cas that his thoughts are being broadcast on his face, so he quickly says, “There’s been no movement from the Los Altos. Charlie says she’ll let us know if there’s any change.”

Any worries that Dean had regarding young Charlene finding out about the supernatural was misguided at best. Cas doesn’t know how, but Charlie already knew. During a scheduled board game night that ended up lasting until morning, Cas had winced when a beam of sunlight hit his arm. He and Dean both panicked, but Charlie simply stood up, closed the blinds and curtains, and sat back down again.

When met with her wide-eyed stares, she just shrugged. “What? Like I wouldn’t investigate the dude bangin’ my bestie?”

And that was that.

Gabe nods and makes his way to the kitchen. “Coolio.”

“Indeed,” Cas muses.

Dean sits next to Cas and leans into him. Cas lifts his arm to wrap around his boy, pressing a kiss to his temple. Dean is always extra affectionate until he’s had at least a cup of coffee, especially if they’ve been intimate that day. Cas soaks it all in and revels in it eagerly.

While he’s revelling, his phone buzzes, and he frowns down at it quizzically. Dean’s staring, too, and the room has gone silent.

The only people who would be calling Cas are in this room. The only people who know this phone number at all, with precisely two exceptions, are in this room.

_Two exceptions._

Cas snatches the phone up, answers it, and presses it to his ear in less than an entire second. “Hello?”

“Castiel.” Anna’s voice is tight with emotions. “Castiel, Joshua…”

Castiel’s breath catches in his chest, and his heart gives one heavy _thump_ of distress.

“Joshua has been murdered.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Hi, everyone! Sorry for the delay, holidays, you know. This is a bit short, but that's kind of how the chapter lengths fell. *shrug* I also went back and cleaned up Chapter Two, so if you're a rereader, you might notice some updates. Thanks for reading!

“Cas?”

Dean’s voice sounds very far away.

“Cas, who is it?”

_ Joshua has been murdered. _

“Cas, babe, are you okay?”

Castiel feels himself thump into a chair as if through a thousand layers of cotton. The phone is pulled from his limp fingers and Dean begins speaking urgently to someone.

_ Joshua has been murdered. _

* * *

_ The garden is vibrant and colorful, riotous flowers blooming all around them. There’s a steady, lazy hum of bees in the air. _

_ A warm, gentle smile on a dark, kind face. _

_ “You are your own person, James, and you can make your own decisions. The circumstances that brought you to this life were terrible, indeed, but only you can choose where to go from here.” _

* * *

A gentle murmuring slowly draws him back from the shock of Anna’s words. He blinks down at Dean, who’s kneeling in front of him, hands on his knees as worried green eyes stare up at him. Sam, Gabriel, and Balthazar are gone. Only he and Dean are left in the sun-soaked kitchen.

“Hey,” Dean says gently. “Are you okay?”

Castiel has to swallow twice before he can reply. “I think so.”

Dean nods. He obviously doesn’t believe Castiel, but since it’s the best lie he can come up with right now, they both let it go.

“Who’s Joshua?”

_ God save me. _ “Someone who… Someone who helped me a very long time ago.”

It’s not that Castiel wants to hide his past from Dean. He wants to share everything with Dean, for neither of them to have any secrets at all. It’s just that he loves Dean so incredibly  _ much. _ He loves this man with a fierceness that defies description, that no flowery language will ever be able to properly define (and since Castiel knows several flowery languages, he considers himself an expert).

It’s because of that adoration that he stays silent. He doesn’t want Dean to look at him differently, or leave him because of the way he was turned. He knows Dean doesn’t love him like he loves Dean, as Dean has never said or even hinted at it, but he  _ cares _ for Castiel. That’s enough, it’s okay. Watching Dean become such a strong, confident young man has been a pleasure, to turn him into something eternal a privilege. Castiel is grateful for the affection Dean holds for him, and he wants to protect it as long as possible.

“He is…  _ Was… _ Important. To me.”

Dean just nods, accepts that answer like it’s any answer at all. “All right. Well, Anna gave me the skinny. Joshua was working overnight at a botanical garden in Reno.” He smiles gently. “You up for a drive tonight, handsome?”

* * *

The Impala has been fitted with the same UV protective film that is on the windows in their house, so as long as Dean wears long-sleeved shirts, gloves, and sunglasses, he can drive in the evening without too much discomfort. It’s a couple of hours before sunset when they begin their journey to Reno.

It’s just he and Dean when they leave. Sam has class the next day and Dean refused to let him miss, but Castiel refused to let him be unprotected. He bribed Gabe and Balthazar with promises of frequent updates (and, to Gabriel, a promise that he would be all right) to stay behind.

The ride is silent, save for the rock music coming from Baby’s speakers. Dean sings along softly, and Castiel finds it in himself to hum with the music after a while. His body gets looser as more scenery goes by, and his mind begins to relax a bit. Driving with Dean is familiar, known, and it’s hard to stay worried and alert when he’s in a scenario in which they’ve always been safe.

They get to the Wilbur D. May Center in just under four hours. The sun has set completely and the parking lot is empty when they get there. Dean pulls them into a space, parks the car, and looks over towards Castiel. His incredible bone structure and long lashes are dramatically highlighted by the bright light of the parking lot lamps and the dark shadow provided by the night.

“Hey,” Dean says softly, bringing Cas out of his study of the boy. “You all right, Cas?”

He would lie, but he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get another untruth by Dean tonight without a fight. “It… Has been a very long time since I lost someone important to me. I fear that not only does it not get easier, but the shock may in fact be more difficult to bear when it’s cushioned by a century without loss.”

Dean’s eyes are dark with sympathy, his mouth turned down into a frown. He reaches across the seat and takes Cas’ hand, twining their fingers together and gripping hard. “I’m sorry, Cas,” he murmurs.

Castiel smiles. “Thank you, dearheart. I cannot tell you what it means to me that you’re here with me.”

Dean’s answering smile is almost painful in its brilliance. “You and me, Cas. All the way.”

The sentiment warms him, carries him through getting out of the car and walking with Dean over to the doors of the museum. When he sees a thin, pale redhead standing just in front of the doors, he stumbles a little. Dean’s hand slipping back into his steadies and strengthens him.

When Anna’s pretty, delicate features come into sight, Cas has to concentrate on fighting the flashbacks away.

* * *

_ Laughing, he chases his sister through a sunlit hallway. Her skirts brush against the walls as they run, her delighted shrieks cutting through the air. _

* * *

He is not entirely successful.

* * *

_ Anna’s red hair spilled down her shoulder and across her desk as they concentrate on arithmetic. _

* * *

He sees by the strain around her eyes that Anna is struggling with the same.

* * *

_ Anna’s beautiful green eyes, ringed with red and swimming with tears, her face framed by lank, damp hair. _

* * *

Finally, by pure force of will, Castiel banishes the images that are trying to overtake him. He smiles at Anna, though he knows it’s harsh and unfriendly. Her expression is much the same, but it does soften a degree.

“Castiel.”

“Anna.”

After a beat of silence that must be incredibly awkward, Dean clears his throat. “Uh, okay. Do you wanna show us…”

Anna nods. “Yes, of course. This way.”

They follow her around the building to a second door. In letters four feet high along the path, the word ARBORETUM is displayed and lit up with minuscule spotlights as they walk. The foliage is thick, beautiful, a testament to the skill required to cultivate it. There’s another set of glass doors at the end of the path, and halfway to them, the scent of blood starts to fill Cas’ nose.

Dean inhales sharply but stays calm at Cas’ side. He is, once again, intensely grateful that Dean has adjusted so well to vampirism. He doesn’t know how well he would handle this without Dean next to him.

None of them say a word as Anna unlocks the door and leads them down a hall, then into a room to their left where the scent of copper is strongest.

“I spoke with your… ‘Charlie,’” Anna is saying. “She helped to scramble the security footage before any human authorities were alerted. She is… Very strange.”

Dean snorts, but Castiel is too busy staring at Joshua’s blood on the walls. He slowly follows the trail until he sees the heap of a body on the ground in the corner.

Joshua is even more lifeless than he was before the sort of afterlife vampires live in. His skin, so dark in life, is strangely pale and waxy in the moonlight. He’s wearing work jeans and a dark shirt with a vest over it, the same clothes he’s been wearing for centuries. His heavy boots have dried mud on them, as do his hands.

The real shock, Castiel supposes, is that Joshua’s head is lying a few feet away from his body. Castiel is fervently grateful that Joshua’s face is turned away so that all he can see is the back of his mentor’s head.

There is blood  _ everywhere. _ It’s smeared on the walls and pooled on the floor next to Joshua’s body, a smaller pool next to his head.  _ He must have fed recently, and well, _ Castiel thinks, a bit dazed,  _ to have had this much blood in him. _ He’s staring at the wall for a few moments before he realizes that the blood is smeared in a sort of pattern. Another moment and a step farther away from the wall reveals that there is a message written in the blood.

_ Itaque referri possit operiri iterum mane nocturnos. _

“Bring back the dawn so the earth can be covered once again in the night,” Castiel reads grimly, his deep voice reverberating ominously off of the walls.

_ Et ne nos inducas in te tenebrae est, et eius sectatores ambulabunt terram sine timore. _

“She will lead us into darkness, and her followers will walk the earth without fear.”

Anna is frowning. “‘She?’”

Dean is staring daggers at the wall. “The Lightbringers.”

The Lightbringers, an entity that has remained mostly in the shadows and largely faceless, are responsible for this. They  _ murdered _ Joshua. They may not realize it, but they have brought the fight  _ directly _ to Castiel’s doorstep. Long-buried memories of lessons and drills fill his head. Among all of the other things he has been, Castiel has been a soldier more than once, a wartime strategist, and he falls back on those habits now.

“They will pay for this,” he says solemnly, a promise to a father figure he didn’t protect and a sister he can barely look at.


	4. Chapter Four

_ The blow takes him by surprise across his right cheek. He flies back, hands flying up to cover his face. _

_ “You will be obedient, James, or so help me.” _

_ The voice reverberates through his mind, making his vision hazy and jerky. _

_ “... obedient…” _

_ “... so help me…” _

_ “... You will be obedient…” _

_ “... James, so help me…” _

_ “Cas!” _

With a jerk, Castiel is pulled from the nightmare loop he was trapped in. There is a weight pressing down on him, holding him in place. He bucks in vain to get it off until warm hands land on his bare shoulders and Dean comes into focus, hovering over him with worry written plainly on his face. Castiel immediately stills, though his chest is heaving.

“Cas?” Dean says again, softer now.

“I apologize,” Cas says, his voice rougher than usual. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

They’re in their bedroom, and the darkness would be impossible to see through were they both not vampires. The sheets are tangled around Castiel’s ankles. He’s bare from the waist up, as is Dean, and they’re both wearing thin pajama pants. He keenly feels every place where Dean is pressed against him.

“Yeah, you were kinda flailing around,” Dean says with a teasing smile as he climbs off of Castiel and lies back down at his side, head propped up on his hand.

Cas frowns. “I do not  _ flail.” _

“Whatever you say, babe,” Dean says easily. He flops down onto the pillow, then tugs Cas until his back is flush against Dean’s chest. Now that Dean is a vampire, too, he isn’t quite as burning hot as he used to be against Cas’ skin. It’s better now, more comfortable. He’s warm, and his arm is firm when it wraps around Cas’ waist, holding him close.

Dean’s breath stirs the little hairs on the back of Cas’ neck when he speaks again. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Does it have something to do with Joshua?”

“... No.”

Dean’s voice is sly now, “Something to do with Anna, then?”

Castiel stays silent, because any lie that he might offer is so entangled with what is actually the truth that it may as well be truth itself. He’s never been able to reliably lie to Dean, anyway.

Regardless, he feels Dean’s lips against his skin. “You don’t have to say anything,” Dean murmurs. “We’ll take care of it together, okay?”

The ghost of a smile touches his lips, and Castiel feels marginally better. “Together, then, dearheart.”

* * *

The weeks after Anna’s call quickly blur together in a haze of reports, false leads, and chasing any information they can get their hands on.

Castiel is a bit ashamed to admit that, while they’ve still been keeping an eye on any obvious movement from the Lightbringers, the urgency has faded in the last few years. With Dean graduating, Sam starting college, the move to California, turning Dean, and letting him adjust to vampirism, they’ve been… Busy.

Since Joshua’s murder, however, their fervor has returned tenfold. Castiel and Dean are rarely far from research of any kind, and Balthazar is in the field, tracking down leads and following any suspected movement. Gabriel keeps them as coordinated and fed as possible. Sam and Charlie help as much as they can, but they have school and work, so their available time is limited.

Bobby has been a surprisingly vital asset. The old hunter has an extensive network of people who are “in the know” about the supernatural side of things, and they provide massive amounts of information.

One of his contacts intercepted communication regarding Alastair’s failure to capture and subdue Dean, or to eliminate Cas. It explicitly describes the entire incident, much to Cas’ confusion, going so far as to describe what each of them was wearing. Dean brushes aside how strangely detailed the report is and just beams at Cas when Gabriel reads the part where Cas breaks down the basement door aloud. Castiel is sure he’s blushing.

_ Damn frequent feedings,  _ he thinks without heat. He can’t truly resent anything that puts such a happy smile on his boyfriend’s face.

Despite their new work ethic, however, their results have been frustratingly insignificant. They learn little of what the Lightbringers actually  _ want. _ There are more references to “bringing back the dawn” and “eternal night,” which is just gibberish in Castiel’s opinion. A mysterious “she” is mentioned frequently, although there’s no real clue to her actual identity.

Every day that he cannot call Anna, the sister he failed so fantastically so long ago, and tell her that he’s found the creature who murdered Joshua and slain it makes his heart ache fiercely. He works tirelessly, foregoing sleep and only feeding when it becomes absolutely urgent. He reads reports, studies, and translations until his eyes and head ache, and then he reads some more. He shamelessly uses the advantages that vampirism has granted him to push himself to his limits.

So, really, it’s no wonder that Dean (who does, after all, have some experience with overworking one’s self) notices and decides to do something about it.

* * *

Cas blinks in confusion when his laptop closes gently but firmly. He raises his eyes to meet Dean’s gaze, which manages somehow to be sad and vaguely amused at once.

“Hiya,” Dean says softly.

Cas frowns. “Was there something you needed?”

Dean takes his hand and hauls him to his feet. Before Cas can protest, Dean leans forward and captures his mouth in a gentle kiss, which immediately diverts all of his attention. Dean has always been an  _ exceptionally _ good kisser.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs against Cas’ lips. “You.”

Cas shudders and wraps a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, kissing him hard. Dean arches and moans. He gives as good as he gets and before Cas knows it, Dean is pulling them up the stairs, one hand in Cas’ hair and the other fisted in the front of his shirt. It’s easy to forget that Dean is as strong as he himself is now.

He lets Dean lead them until he realizes where they’re going. He pulls away, ignoring Dean’s protesting whine.

“Dean, are we going to the bathroom?”

Dean groans, apparently giving up the game.  _ “Yes.” _

It can’t be for sex. Dean says shower sex is unnecessarily complex. So…

“Why?”

Dean groans again, but he’s smiling a bit now. “Damn smart vampire,” he mutters. “We’re going to the bathroom because you’ve been working yourself stupid, and you desperately need a break. So we’re going to take an insanely hot shower, where we’ll get a little handsy.  _ Then _ we’re going to the bedroom where I’m going to lay you out on the bed and suck your brains out through your dick.” Dean is outright smirking now. “Sound good?”

What is Castiel supposed to say  _ that? _

“Of course, Dean.”

* * *

After a shower, which is indeed quite handsy, and during which Dean did all of the work and let Castiel do nothing, he finds himself sprawled on his back on the bed. His fingers twist the bedsheets as he fights the urge to  _ grab _ and  _ hold _ and  _ take. _

But Dean told him to be still, and so still shall he remain.

Dean, who is currently,  _ swallowing Cas whole. _ The loss of the need to breathe has done  _ wonders _ for Dean’s fellatio  _ (“No one calls it fellatio, Cas, Christ.”) _ skills, not that he was a slouch before. Castiel moans embarrassingly loudly when he feels the molten heat surrounding his cock constrict as Dean swallows.

His legs are spread wide, and Dean has two lubed fingers gently rubbing against his prostate. It’s making Castiel shudder and see stars as he fights the urge to thrust, either up or down, he’s not picky.

_ “Dean,” _ he gasps, “Dean, I’m going to-”

His hurried warning is cut off by his orgasm. He clenches his teeth against a scream, spilling into Dean’s mouth. Dean sucks on the head of his cock almost tenderly and continues working his prostate, prolonging his aftershocks torturously.

Castiel shudders one last time, hard, before he goes limp. At this, Dean pulls off with a lewd  _ pop _ and removes his fingers gingerly. He walks on his knees up the bed until he’s sitting on Cas’ thighs. Castiel watches his boy, all lovely lines and smooth skin, and Dean watches back through eyes half-lidded in lust.

“So fuckin’ hot,” dean purrs, jacking himself slowly. Cas’ cock, still hard, twitches, though he couldn’t possibly come again so soon. “All spread out for me. We haven’t done  _ that _ in a while, have we? Want me to fuck you, Cas? Split you open on my cock?”

Cas moans. “Yes, anything, dearheart.”

Dean’s expression is no less predatory, but it does soften a bit. “Not tonight, Cas. You just lay there, baby, let me do all the work.”

There’s no hint of shyness in Dean as his hand starts to move faster, his chest heaving as he strips his cock. He’s lovely, hair wild from their shower and Cas’ fingers He almost glows, and Cas loves him so intensely at that moment that it hurts a little.

Dean comes with a shout, striping Cas’ belly and cock with white. He works himself through it, whimpering brokenly. Cas is helpless to do anything but watch reverently.

Finally, Dean comes back to himself, straightens, and crawls off the bed with a soft command to Cas to stay where he is. He does so, and moments later, Dean comes back with a warm washcloth. He cleans both of them of come and lube, presses a gentle kiss to Cas’ hip bone, and tosses the cloth into the hamper.

They crawl beneath the covers together and Dean wraps around him like an octopus. Knowing his concentration is shot, Cas doesn’t even consider getting any more work done tonight.

“I know you’re frustrated,” Dean says softly, “but we’re gonna figure this out, Cas, I promise.” Dean lays a gentle kiss on the back of Cas’ neck. “Let's get a few hours of shut-eye, then we’ll get back to it in the morning, okay?”

Cas drifts to sleep on that promise.

* * *

_ “You will be obedient, James, or so help me…” _

_ “... so help me…” _

_ “... my soldiers, my perfect gods…” _

_ “... perfect gods…” _

_ “... James…” _

* * *

Castiel does not jerk awake this time. He awakens all at once, but he remains perfectly still save for opening his eyes.

He’s alone in bed. He gets up and dresses slowly, mechanically. His mind is racing, but he is certain.

_ God help me. God help  _ us.

When he goes downstairs to the kitchen, Dean is already there, along with Sam and Gabriel. Their talking and laughter fade when they see him. He must look as troubled as he feels.

Dean frowns and stands from where he was sitting next to Sam at the breakfast table. “Cas?”

“I know-” he croaks. He swallows hard and tries again. “I know who ‘she’ is.”

Dean’s eyebrows go up. “Yeah? Who?”

Cas meets Gabriel's eyes. “Naomi.”


	5. Chapter Five

_The midafternoon sun warms the elegant classroom through the huge windows on the west side of the building. Dustmotes dance cheerfully in the light. The only audible sound is the scratch of Miss Naomi’s quill against her parchment._

_James is terribly bored, really._

_Miss Naomi looks up and frowns at him. “James? Why aren’t you working?”_

_“I’ve finished with my equations,” he answers dutifully._

_She gives him a tiny smile which lights his heart up. Miss Naomi is strict in all things, but James knows that he’s lucky to have her. She tells him so quite often, after all._

_She comes over to the desk he works at each day and picks up the chalkboard on which his work is shown. His handwriting is small, precise, and neat. Miss Naomi expects nothing less._

_As she checks over his work, he hears a squeal from outside. Anna is only five, a whole three years younger than James himself, so she still gets an hour of play in the middle of the day. Miss Naomi assures James that he’s too old for such childish things. He always nods seriously when she says things like that, and sometimes she pats him on the shoulder and says, “Good boy.”_

_It_ is _superb weather, though, and Anna_ does _sound like she’s having fun._

_“Miss Naomi?”_

_“Hmm?” She doesn’t take her eyes off of his work._

_“May I be permitted to go outside to play with Anna, please?”_

_Miss Naomi finally looks at him. She’s frowning now. “James, why on earth would you want to do that?”_

_“Well, the weather is lovely, and it seemed like it might be… Fun.”_

_Miss Naomi just looks at him silently before shaking her head. “No. We must work on your language exercises. And your penmanship, it seems._

_James frowns. He rarely disagrees with Miss Naomi, but this just seems so…_ Unfair. _He did language exercises just this morning, and his penmanship is as good as he can get it, and Anna gets to go outside, and it seems like the weather really is very nice today, and he wants to play! Just for a while!_

_“But Miss Naomi, I-”_

_“James.” Her voice is cold and hard. “I have already told you ‘no.’”_

_“But I already did my language work!” he says, his voice rising in distress. “And I want to go outside!” He doesn’t stamp his foot, but it’s a very near thing._

_The blow takes him by surprise across his right cheek. He flies back, hands flying up to cover his face. When he looks up, tears already pooling in his eyes, Miss Naomi is staring down at him imperiously, disappointment etched in every line of her face._

_“You will be obedient, James, or so help me.”_

* * *

Dean frowns. “Who’s Naomi?”

Castiel hasn’t taken his eyes off of Gabriel, who he’s sure would have gone quite pale by now were he possessed of any blood that might drain from his face. “She’s a… Terrible creature.”

Sam rises from where he was sitting at the table. There’s paper scattered around, and from what Castiel can see, it’s research into the Lightbringers, not homework. Sam is frowning, too, but the furrow in his brow says it’s in concentration.

“Okay, we’re probably going to need a little bit more to go on than that,” Sam says.

_No. There is no way I can… Maybe Gabe will… No. I cannot ask that of him._

Without saying another word, Castiel turns and darts back up the stairs. Gabriel shouts, and there seems to be a scuffle behind him, but he doesn’t turn back around. Once he gets to the bedroom he and Dean share, he leaves the door open behind him and goes to sink down onto the bed. He rests his elbows on his thighs and buries his face in his hands.

_Dammit._

Pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, he struggles to compose himself. _She has no power over me, not anymore,_ he says to himself. _I’ve chosen a different path, a better path. She has no power over me anymore._

Quiet footsteps alert him to Dean’s presence, but he doesn’t lift his head until he feels Dean’s hands on his knees. Castiel opens his eyes to see Dean kneeling in front of him, green eyes glowing in worry.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiles a little. “Hi.”

Castiel sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“Cas, babe, I…” Dean swallows hard. “I know this sucks, but you gotta tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s… Incredibly difficult to talk about.”

Dean nods earnestly. “Yeah, totally, and I get it, I do. And I don’t wanna push you, ‘cause Missouri said that would be bad, but you’re shutting me out, and I-”

Thunderous footsteps come from the stairs, and Castiel doesn’t care if the relief he feels is obvious as he turns to see Sam stumble into the doorway. That is not a conversation he wants to have with Dean, ideally ever, but especially not right now, before he can get his wits about him.

Sam looks apologetic as he hovers at the door, phone in hand. “Uh… Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

Castiel can feel Dean still staring at him, eyes boring holes in the side of his face, but he resolutely keeps his gaze on Sam until Dean sighs a little and looks away, too.

“What is it, Sam?” Dean asks, voice resigned.

“It’s Charlie.”

Castiel frowns. “What’s wrong?”

“We caught one of them. One of the Lightbringers.”

Castiel and Dean surge to their feet at the same time. _“What?”_ Dean snaps, suddenly all business.

Castiel gratefully lets their previous conversation drift away. He won’t be able to avoid it forever, but he at least won’t have to have it tonight. _Incredible that timing can be good and bad at the same time,_ he muses. “Where?” he asks aloud.

“Balthazar has him in a warehouse a few miles away.” Sam nods to him. “We were waiting for your instructions, Cas.”

_Shit._

“Tell him to wait for me.”

* * *

It’s the first time Castiel can ever remember avoiding Dean’s gaze. It’s more difficult than he anticipated. Looking into his lovely boyfriend’s eyes has become more a part of him than he realized, and he’s struggling to keep his eyes forward, even as Dean keeps shooting him pleading looks as he drives.

It’s a relief when they reach the address Balthazar gave them. The warehouse is derelict, which is no more than Castiel expected. It’s close to mid-day, but a carport has been erected right in front of the door to the warehouse, so Dean pulls the Impala under the shade it offers and turns her off.

They sit in silence for a beat before Castiel speaks.

“I don’t,” he croaks. He winces, clears his throat, and tries again. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stay in the car?”

Dean snorts unattractively _(oh, not true, he’s attractive in all things)._ “Fat chance.”

“Dean, I-”

“Why, so you can keep hiding things from me?” Dean shakes his head. “You may not be comfortable talking to me about some stuff, Cas, but you can’t keep me out of Lightbringer business.” With that, Dean gets out of the car.

Castiel heaves a sigh. He’ll talk to Dean, he will, he’s always planned to, but he really _should_ deal with this first _(coward, coward, you’re a coward and it’s all you’ll ever be)._ The Lightbringers are dangerous and should take priority over Castiel’s inability to communicate with the people around him.

So he tells himself, anyway.

He follows Dean out of the car with no more idea of what to do than he had before.

The warehouse is generously named as such. It’s more aptly described as an enormous shed, really. Castiel has no idea what its original purpose was, but there is only one giant room. There are no offices and no second floor. Just one room, metal walls, and a rusting tin roof.

In the center of that room stands Balthazar. He’s wearing all black (which Castiel feels is overkill), and he’s glaring at the man tied to a chair just a few feet off center.

The man has extremely dark skin, with dark eyes and hair to match. His hair is cropped close to his head, as it has been since Castiel has known him. He’s wearing a business suit, which is jarring for some reason Castiel can’t seem to put his finger on.

“Uriel,” Castiel breathes.

 _“Oh_ good,” Uriel sneers, not missing a beat. “It’s the traitor James.”

The name shocks Castiel. He feels his face cool as the blood he does indeed possess enough of drains from it, making him paler than normal, he’s sure. His limbs are alternately almost numb and far too sensitive. His fight or flight response has him struggling to keep his fangs hidden. He pointedly doesn’t look at Dean.

If he had his way, Dean would go home. Dean would be a hundred miles away from here, maybe visiting Bobby in South Dakota or Charlie in Kansas. He would be nowhere near this wretched place, this place where Castiel’s past has finally caught up enough to poison his present, his future.

Dean isn’t going anywhere, though, and Castiel knows that his time of hiding is done.

“Uriel,” Castiel says again, his voice stronger this time in his resolve and resignation. “Uriel, tell me there is no truth to you being a part of this charade.”

Uriel rolls his eyes. “Just because you are too naive to see the right path doesn’t mean that all of us are so misguided. I follow Naomi gladly.”

Castiel comes forward the rest of the way until he’s standing in front of Uriel, his old comrade. “Tell me what I’ve found is mistaken,” he says, almost pleading. “She cannot possibly still be looking for the First.”

“She is, and she will until she finds him.”

“The First is a _child’s tale,_ Uriel. There is no truth to it, it’s merely a tool we use to keep one another in line. A… A flimsy origin tale meant to comfort those of us who want roots, who want history. The First isn’t real.” He frowns. “And even if he was, there’s no _reason_ to try to find him. The stories I’ve heard have documented his disdain for humans well. It would be disastrous, should he walk the earth now. _If_ he were real.”

Uriel sneers again. “You always were too attached to those… _Vermin._ You never realized our potential, James, the _power_ we could have.”

The light in Uriel’s light is manic, unsettling. _Has he always been mad,_ Castiel wonders, _or did Naomi cultivate this within him?_

“We don’t have _power,”_ Castiel says instead of asking when Uriel lost his mind. “We’re not supposed to exist. We’re _unnatural._ Uriel, for God’s sake, man, we’re _monsters.”_

“We’re _gods,”_ Uriel returns, disdain dripping from each syllable. _“You’ve_ just never been able to see it. Lucifer, however, the First, he will lead us into the light. He will lead us into ruling over humans, as is our birthright.”

“We aren’t _born,_ Uriel,” Castiel insists, hoping against hope to get through to this vampire who was once a brother in arms. “Uriel, this is crazy. The ravings of a madwoman. Naomi has always been just this side of insane. How could you _listen_ to her? You’re _smarter_ than this!”

Uriel smirks, his eyes gleaming. “Well, it was certainly enough to frighten Joshua before I tore his foolish head from his shoulders.”

At this, the mention of his mentor, Castiel sees red.

Joshua was a kind, loving soul. Gentle in all things, in touch and manner and voice, he was everything Naomi has never been. He was, quite simply, everything a frightened, aching, absolutely clueless young man on the run had needed.

He saved Castiel, and Uriel murdered him.

Because of Joshua’s teachings, Castiel would like to believe he is a good man. He has an iron control on his temper, and he has not acted in violence without having that control in centuries. He tries very hard to be understanding, kind, and just as _good_ as Joshua was, as Joshua believed he could be.

But creatures who are as good, as good as Castiel would like to believe himself to be, do not need control. They do not need as many rules or boundaries as Castiel has laid upon himself. They are good by instinct, reflex.

Castiel is not good by reflex. He is not virtuous, or merciful, or kind.

He is a soldier.

The room blurs around him with the speed he uses to attack Uriel. His prey is already tied down, hardly even a challenge, but it matters little. The beast inside Castiel’s chest, the one he keeps on such a tight, short leash, is roaring for vengeance, for blood. It does not matter that Uriel is at a disadvantage, because Castiel would kill him anyway.

It is short and brutal, when Castiel tears Uriel’s throat out with his teeth. Excessive, maybe, and a bit dramatic, but he is immediately appeased when the blood too pale and thick to be human pours sluggishly down Uriel’s chest. Thick, wet choking sounds come from the other man’s mouth before Castiel reaches out and casually tears Uriel’s head from his body.

While they were in training, Uriel was good, but Castiel was better. It satisfies something deep within in that he is _still_ better.

Despite the ease of his kill, his chest heaves in excitement, in the muscle memory of kills before he became immortal, became _strong._ It’s not until Dean’s cold, distant voice rings through the warehouse that Castiel even remembers he’s not alone.

“So, _James.”_ The anger in Dean’s voice is like ice, sinking into Castiel’s limbs and chest and making him shiver and ache. The surge of victory disappears completely in its wake. He turns to look at his boy, though he looks more like a man now than he ever has.

Dean is glowering at him, his green eyes alight with fury. His arms are crossed in faux relaxation, but the muscles in his biceps are bulging with tension.

_Fuck._

“Got anything you wanna tell me?” Dean asks, deceptively calm.

 _No,_ Castiel thinks, belatedly dropping his grisly trophy to the ground, _not particularly._


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I'm not in love with this chapter. It is 100% an info dump, and I apologize profusely for it. That's one of the reasons it took me so long to get it up, because I fought with it for so long. But I finally decided it's not going to get better, so here it is. Sorry again. Love y'all.

Castiel leans against the tile wall in the shower, defeated. He’s tired, but it’s as if his  _ heart _ is tired, his  _ soul _ if he believed he had one. Since he doesn’t believe any such thing, it’s probably his heart.

Dean stormed out when Castiel wasn’t able to bring himself to answer his question right away. Balthazar, in a rare show of restraint and diplomacy, stayed silent while they disposed of Uriel’s body, and continued to stay silent on the drive back home. There are no words to describe how grateful Castiel is for his old friend.

Dean was nowhere to be found when they got home, so Castiel went straight to the bathroom. He stripped his clothes off and left them in a pile on the floor to burn later. He stepped into the shower, turned the water to scalding, and proceeded to try to scrub things off that cannot be washed away.

Now, he presses his forehead against the tile hard enough that it hurts and the wall starts to groan under the strain. He doesn’t  _ want _ to have this conversation. He doesn’t  _ want _ to tell Dean about what he’s done, what he did, how completely he failed.

_ He’ll leave. This is your mess, this Lightbringer business, and he’ll leave when he knows. And why shouldn’t he? You had no right deceiving him that way. You had absolutely  _ no right. _ You swooped in like you were saving him from Alastair, and you didn’t even argue when he called you a hero. It’s no wonder he doesn’t love you, really. When he does go, it will be without argument. _

The bedroom door snicks closed outside, and Cas knows he can’t put it off any longer.

He considers drawing out the process of drying off, but he can’t bring himself to do it. If this will change the way Dean looks at him, he may as well get it over with.

When he goes out to the bedroom, he doesn’t look at Dean at first. He goes directly to the dresser, drops the towel from around his waist, and pulls on a pair of briefs and flannel sleep pants. The silence is oppressive.

When he finally turns to let his eyes fall upon Dean, his boyfriend is sitting on his own side of the bed, head in his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. Frustration, anger, and sadness are written in every line of his lovely body.

_ Fuck. _

Castiel approaches Dean slowly, cautiously. He kneels on the floor at his feet without touching him. The only sign that Dean knows he’s there is the way his green eyes squeeze shut as if in denial.

“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean whispers. “Sorry,  _ James.” _

Castiel winces. “Please don’t call me that.”

Dean’s voice comes out an angry hiss. “Then what the fuck  _ can _ I call you?”

“Dean, please,” Cas’ chest is tight with apprehension, and he knows he’s breathing too fast. “I’m the same person you knew this morning. I haven’t changed at all.”

“... Did I even know you then?”

There is such raw, honest pain in Dean’s voice, such profound confusion and doubt, that Castiel finds himself speaking without his express consent.

“My first memories are of an orphanage in Russia. My name was James. I’ve no way of knowing if the woman who gave birth to me named me, or if the orphanage did it. It’s not a traditional Russian name, so it must have been her. That’s neither here nor there.

“I have few memories of the orphanage, admittedly. Only that it was dingy, overcrowded, and we were constantly filthy and underfed. There was little in the way of structure, no attempt at education. It was a very bleak place.

“You can see, then, why Naomi seemed like such an angel.”

Dean has become entirely still, in the unnatural way of vampires, but Castiel has almost forgotten him in the rush of memories that wash over him.

“It will be difficult to imagine, because you are so young, but there was no paperwork involved when she adopted me, no background check. I doubted they even questioned her intentions. I was simply one less mouth to feed. There was some money exchanged, I assume, and then I was being sent home with her.

“In many ways, my life with Naomi was exceptionally privileged. I had stellar tutors, excellent food, I was allowed to bathe once a week. We were frequent guests at highly sought-after soirees and balls. I was dressed in fine silks, linens, and wools. I had my own books, my own room, even my own horse.

“Naomi was a hard woman, a very strict guardian. She made very sure that I knew how lucky I was to have her, and how lucky Anna was once she adopted her, too.” He ignores Dean’s sharp intake of breath. “But I loved her very much, how could I not?” Castiel’s voice breaks, but the sensation is distant and unimportant. “She was my  _ mother.” _

“Jesus,” Dean breathes, but that, too, is far away.

“Anna and I were incredibly well-behaved. We had to be. We were punished severely for disobedience. But it was fine,  _ good, _ even. We didn’t know that anything was wrong, that anything was different. How could we have? I wonder, now, if I had known before, if I could have done something… But I was a child, and she was a monster. Perhaps it was just as well that I was unaware.”

“Cas,” Dean’s voice is high and fearful. When Cas manages to focus on him, Dean’s eyes are wide, his breathing shallow.

“Apologies, I digress."

“You don’t-”

But Castiel can’t stop now. This as close as he’s ever gotten to confessing his sins, to unburdening himself. Even  _ Gabriel _ doesn’t know it all. He finds that he cannot stem the flow of words.

“When I turned twenty-one, she revealed to me that she was a vampire. I didn’t believe her at first, but it… Didn’t take her long to convince me. She had to do considerably less than I did to make you believe, dear- ah, Dean. It was a different time. Fantasy and reality were much more difficult to separate.

“I… I panicked. As much as I loved Naomi, Anna and I were… Inseparable. I loved her more than I had ever loved anything. It was my d-duty to p-protect her.” Castiel lets his eyes fall closed and swallows hard. “That night, I took Anna and tried to flee. Naomi caught us easily.

“It wasn’t the first time Naomi laid a hand on me in violence, but it was by far the most severe. I kept her off of Anna until she wasn’t angry anymore, but the cost was dear. I believe she came close to killing me that night.” He reaches up to touch a faint scar on his chest almost without thinking about it.

_ “Fuck,” _ Dean says with feeling.

“Indeed. After that night, after I recovered… Nothing changed but Anna and I. We were expected to keep up appearances and we did. We attended balls and the opera, got high marks on our studies, all while knowing we were under the same roof as a monster.

“I… Relaxed.” Shame makes Castiel’s voice deeper, rougher than it normally is. “She didn’t harm us, or starve us, or turn us out onto the street. We enjoyed the same privilege we had before we knew. I… I didn’t  _ think, _ I wasn’t  _ ready. _ She required that we keep ourselves physically sound, we had to perform daily exercises, but that was- That is to say that- I, I couldn’t have  _ known-” _

_ “Cas!” _ Dean’s voice has gaze snapping back to his and staring into those worried green eyes blankly.

“Cas,” Dean says softly, “you don’t have to-

“Yes, I do,” Cas snarls. Dean flinches back, but that is no less than Castiel deserves, so he doesn’t let it stop him.

“You must know,” Castiel continues. “I have been hiding this from you for long enough. You wanted to know, and I will tell you.”

Dean’s eyes are somehow hard and understanding at the same time. He nods once, sharply, and Castiel continues.

“I tried to… Keep my guard up, I  _ tried. _ But it is exceptionally difficult to stay alert for so long, especially when there is no overt danger. I… I stopped being wary, stopped being alert.” His brief fire flickers out, and Castiel lets his eyes close again.

“I failed.

“It was quiet for  _ years. _ Naomi offered to turn me sporadically, but I turned her down and she seemed to accept that gracefully. The offers became more frequent as I got older, but I stayed steadfast in my wish to remain human.

“When I turned thirty years old, she began to get angry. No, no,  _ furious. _ She told me that my time would soon pass, that I would not be physically sound for much longer, that I was  _ already _ older than she had wanted me to be when she changed me. She laid down an ultimatum, that I was to either be turned, or leave her home permanently.

“I… I told her to keep her money, that I would take my sister and go.”

“Cas…”

This time, he blatantly ignores Dean. “She became enraged, vicious in her anger. It was the second time she beat me so severely. I tried to… You must understand, I did everything I could to put up a fight, to restrain her, stop her, but I… There was nothing I could have done. She was a vampire, and I was a human. She beat me into unconsciousness.

“I woke up in a dungeon, before which I was not aware we possessed. I was chained to one wall, Anna to the opposite. I was horrified, and the moment Naomi came down to us, I pleaded with her to release Anna, that I would do anything she asked if she would let my sister go.

“She declined, told me that she had always planned on turning both Anna and I. That we were to be the first of her army, the first of the revolution, though I didn’t care to try to understand what she was saying at the time. She kept us down there, in that dark dungeon, chained to the wall, for… I don’t know how long we were there. She beat us regularly, tortured us mercilessly. I was waterboarded, burned, and starved. Never enough to scar, but she had other ways. She dumped cold water on our heads and left us shivering for hours. She would neglect to feed us for days, then leave fresh plates of food in the middle of the room. She told me often that if I were only to say yes, our suffering would stop. It was… Well, I imagine it is the hell I will return to when I die.”

Dean’s breath hitches, but Castiel’s eyes fell closed some time ago, and he can’t open them now. He has to get the rest of this out of him, express the rest of this poison from himself, and he cannot face Dean while he does so.

“My only respite was A-Anna,” he stutters, voice thick with emotion. “My sister, always quick with a joke as soon as Naomi left. We told one another stories to keep ourselves sane, to keep ourselves  _ human. _

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t, though. I failed her. I failed  _ Anna.” _ Castiel’s breath heaves in a sob, but he reins himself in with an ironclad control.

_ I will get this out, and then I will let Dean leave. _

“It was… Naomi hadn’t fed us in  _ days, _ and we hadn’t had water, either. She had kicked up enough dust to make it hard to breathe, and we were both struggling to stay conscious. Our clothes were gone, had been gone forever, and she had covered us in dozens of minuscule cuts on top of the near-permanent bruising. Our entire bodies were burning, aching, our throats were sore, dry, and our bellies were cramping with hunger and thirst.

“I don’t know why she came back down, the dust hadn’t even properly settled, and I don’t know why she was so angry, but she pulled me down off of the wall with no more difficulty than she would have had retrieving a dressing gown from a hook, put me on my knees, and proceeded to hit me.

“It was evident to me that this was different, more brutal. She still didn’t hit my face, didn’t dare scar that, but she beat every other part of me mercilessly. I know I was crying, but I don’t remember much else. The pain was… Huge, unimaginable. I don’t know how I stayed conscious.

“I don’t know what it was about that day, Dean, or that beating. Maybe it was the hunger, the thirst, the aching, the exhaustion, or any combination of all of those things. Maybe it was none of them. Maybe it’s because I was weak, because I was always weak and always will be. I don’t know.

“Whatever the reason for it, my resolve broke. I said ‘yes.’

“She turned me instantly, drained me there on my knees and forced me to drink her blood. As I lay on the ground, trying to grapple with the new input of every sense I had, I was forced to watch, with enhanced hearing, sight, and smell, as she turned my sister into a vampire, too. My weakness had broken Anna, and she agreed so easily after that.”

Castiel doesn’t have the luxury of time dulling the memory of his turning. Of his mother, a woman he had once loved, screaming in Russian as she hit him over and over, the way the ground felt beneath his bare knees, the sound his ribs made as they cracked in his chest. The soft, distressed cries from Anna as his sister called out to his mother to try to stop her.

The overwhelming despair that washed over him the moment he gave in.

“I stayed with her.” Now his voice is robotic, strained. He is tired and heartsick, he wants to lie down and sleep forever, maybe. He just has to finish the tale of his failure to Dean and he’ll get to.

“I stayed with her,” he says again. “Once we were awake, once our wounds and healed and we had fed on servants Naomi gave to us, she told us everything. She was… Remarkably cheerful after that. She told us about her plans to find the First, to restore vampires to the ruling class. She wanted humans to fear us,  _ worship _ us, and she was convinced that Lucifer would make that happen. I just… I just agreed with her. I felt so empty, violated, weak. There was nothing left in me to be indignant, especially after Anna withdrew from me. I was so isolated, it seemed like there was nothing for me but to follow Naomi in whatever she wished.

“I stayed for a year, and then she adopted another child.” A ghost of a smile touches Castiel’s lips. “His hair was too long, and he was too smart-mouthed for Naomi to really like, but Gabriel’s presence our estate woke me up.”

_ “Gabriel?” _ Dean asks, shocked.

“Indeed. I realized she wanted to do the same thing to the boy that she had done to me, and I couldn’t… I couldn’t let that happen. I had failed Anna, but I was strong, now, just as strong as Naomi, at least physically, and I wouldn’t let myself fail this child.

“I ran. I took Anna and Gabriel and we fled. I think we only got away so neatly because we had been so incredibly broken before then. Naomi didn’t see it coming, and we fled.

“Anna didn’t stay with us, and I didn’t ask her to. Gabriel and I made our way across the continent until we found a small church. I was exhausted and my bloodlust was killing me, but Gabriel kept me human, kept me connected with humanity enough that I was able to keep my head about me, enough to know that if I left the boy with a church, I could crawl off somewhere to die in peace. I wouldn’t have, of course, but I didn’t know that at the time.

“Imagine my surprise, then, when the pastor who kept the church was a vampire, too.

_ “What?” _

Dean’s surprise brings another almost-smile to Castiel’s face, and he manages to open his eyes now. He can’t read the expression on Dean’s face, but he curses himself for keeping them closed for so long. If this is to be the last time he’s able to openly study this beautiful boy’s features, then by God, he should be trying to soak in every moment.

“Joshua was an incredibly kind, understanding man. The humans who called themselves his flock, as per the word of the Lord, freely allowed him to feed from them, and allowed me the same when Joshua asked it. He insisted that both Gabriel and I both stay with him until our health was restored. After that, we both chose to stay there.

“I don’t have words for what Joshua did for me, Dean. He helped my mind, body, and spirit heal from the damage Naomi wrought. He told me…” Castiel’s voice breaks. “He told me that I made a brave choice and that I was my own man. That the choice of mortality was taken from me, but not of humanity. That I could be whoever I wanted to be.

“I chose a new name from the books he kept about angels, the name you call me now. Gabriel kept his, because he was, as he put it, ‘already an archangel, how much better could it possibly get?’”

Dean huffs a watery laugh, and Castiel’s heart gives a heavy beat of hope. Maybe Dean will leave, but if he still has the ability to make Dean laugh, maybe not all is lost. Because Dean  _ is _ his all, Dean is everything to him. Should Dean choose to leave, Castiel doesn’t know what he’ll do with himself.

_ God, I hope he doesn’t leave. I know that You don’t owe me anything, and You may not even be listening, but… Please, I beg of You, please let him stay. _

“When Gabriel became an adult, he asked to be turned. It took me a long time to agree, but Gabriel and Joshua’s faith in me allowed me to change him without harming him permanently. Once he was able to keep himself under control, he left the church to travel. After a time, I did, too. The cloth, Joshua’s life, while it was simple and healing, wasn’t for me.

“I travelled the world, sometimes with Gabriel, sometimes not. I met Balthazar during…” He frowns. “One of the world wars, anyway, and we became friends. He and Gabriel, I’m sure you can imagine, got on very well immediately. The three of us, we’ve been through much together and apart. Mostly, the last few decades, it’s been apart, unless one of them was in trouble.

“I was in America when Hannah, an old friend, reached out to me about Alastair… And the rest, as they say, is history.”

As the silence spins out between them, Castiel sits back on his heels and closes his eyes for a final time. He doesn’t know how he feels. He expected, maybe, to feel lighter, to feel better, but he just feels unmoored without the weight of his secrets, of his shortcomings.

It’s over now. In a moment, Dean will ask him to leave, and he will. He’ll go, and he’ll hunt down that bitch Naomi, and he’ll put her down for good. He doesn’t know what he’ll do after that, without Dean, but he doesn’t want to think about it. He’ll murder his mother, avenge the only man he could have realistically called father, and he’ll go from there.

He opens his eyes to stare into Dean’s green gaze, maybe for the last time, and he waits for Dean’s reaction. Waits for Dean to yell, scream, rail at him. Waits for Dean to call him a coward, a weakling, the worst kind of traitor. Waits for Dean to shout at him to go, to never come back.

Castiel sits before Dean, whom he so wholly adores, and waits for his judgement.


	7. Chapter Seven

It feels like they stay there staring at one another for hours. There are no windows in the bedroom, but he feels like the sun must have come up by now. Realistically, Castiel knows it’s not that long, probably only a few minutes. He can’t read Dean’s face at all, though, or the look in his eyes, and the uncertainty is slowly killing him. His heart aches impossibly.

Finally, Dean speaks.

“That’s… Kind of a lot to take in, Cas.”

Apparently, and without his own permission, Cas began to have hope at some point, because his disappointment feels like a lead ball being dropped into his belly. “Of course, I’m so sorry, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head and holds his hands up. “No, no, it’s… I kinda just want to go to bed now.”

_ Ah. _ He should have known that Dean would be too kind to kick him out with so many words. Well, he refuses to make Dean any more uncomfortable than he already has. He won’t make Dean say it aloud.

“Of course,” he says again softly. He gets to his feet as quickly as he can, which is  _ very, _ considering what he is, and turns to leave. It hurts to turn away from Dean, from his boy, but there are few things Cas won’t do for Dean.

His noble, painful, self-sacrificing thoughts are interrupted by Dean’s confused, plaintive voice.

“Cas?” He sounds incredibly young, more like the teenager Cas met than the young man (vampire) he’s become.

Castiel stops, only a few steps from the door. He doesn’t turn around, he just freezes. “Yes?”

“Uh… Whatcha doing?”

“You… Said you wanted to go to bed.”

“You’re not gonna do  _ research _ tonight, are you?”

Now Cas turns to look at Dean, tilting his head a bit in confusion. Dean looks as lost as he feels, standing next to the bed, hands lying limp; at his sides.

“No,” Cas says slowly. “I was going to sleep on the couch.”

Dean frowns harder. “Uh… Why?”

“You…” Cas swallows hard. “You said it was a lot to take in. I assumed you’d… Need some time.”

Dean’s whole body loosens, relaxes where Castiel didn’t even realize he was tense, and he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but not without  _ you, _ you big vampiric dummy.”

Castiel feels his mouth drop open a little. “Wh-what?”

Dean shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. He approaches Cas slowly and takes his hand. Castiel finds himself completely unable to resist Dean’s gentle tugging, and he lets his boy tug him back toward the bed.

“Cas,” Dean says, voice warm and gentle, “I was angry because we’re in a  _ relationship _ and you were  _ dishonest _ with me.”

Castiel winces and opens his mouth to apologize again, but Dean shakes his head as they get back to the bed. “Cas, you were being dishonest about your  _ super traumatizing past. _ I’m not angry anymore, babe, I’m  _ sad, _ and I’m  _ tired. _ So I wanna go to bed,  _ with _ you, and I wanna cuddle the shit out of you and pretend like it’s gonna do a goddamn thing to help.” He starts tugging at the waistband of Cas’ pants. “C’mon. Off. Bed.”

But Cas is busy savoring the bright, hot feeling of elation bubbling up in his chest.  _ Dean isn’t angry. _

Dean isn’t angry with him. Dean isn’t disgusted by his weakness. Dean doesn’t think he’s a monster (well, outside of being a vampire), or an abomination, or a failure. Dean still thinks Castiel is worthy of sorrow and physical affection.

_ Dear God, how I love you, _ he wants to say.

Instead, he says, “Very well, then.” He knows he sounds stiff, too formal in his surprise and gratitude.

_ “Very well, then,” _ Dean mocks gently as he tugs Cas’ sleep pants off. They fall to the floor and are left puddled at his feet as Castiel shamelessly watches Dean strip himself down to his briefs. Castiel is feeling too raw, too tired to do anything about his attraction to Dean, but he’ll never be able to resist admiring Dean’s golden, youthful beauty.

Cas goes easily when Dean pushes him into bed, then lets Dean arrange them to his liking. Cas ends up on his back and Dean flops down hard enough to draw an “oomph” from him. He rests his head on Cas’ shoulder almost defiantly before pulling the blankets up over them, grumbling the whole time.

_ “Very well, then. _ Can’t believe you thought I was gonna kick you out of bed because you were abused. What the  _ fuck.” _

Castiel buries his besotted smile in Dean’s hair and fairly drowns in gratitude. “I’m sorry, dearheart.”

“Oh, my  _ God, _ you  _ gotta _ stop apologizing to me.”

It takes them both a very long time to fall asleep, but the new silence is easy, comfortable. Cas runs fingers through the silky hair at the base of Dean’s skull, and Dean occasionally turns his head to brush a kiss against Cas’ chest.

As his exhaustion finally drags him into slumber, Castiel thinks that he doesn’t need Dean to say the words out loud to him. He knows how Dean feels about him, it’s written clearly in every move Dean makes, in how Dean has stayed by his side, trusted him with his most vulnerable secrets.

_ Of course he loves me _ is the last thing Castiel thinks before he succumbs to the cool darkness.

* * *

“You’re telling me the First’s name is  _ actually _ Lucifer?” Sam asks from where he’s sitting at the head of the dining room table the next morning. Paperwork and research are scattered across the table again, as has become the norm. It’s an unusually cloudy day in California, so the light seems muted and dull, which does not match how Castiel feels at all.

After the night before, everything that happened with Uriel, Castiel’s confession, and Dean’s casual acceptance of what Castiel considers to be his most heinous acts, it’s incredible to Castiel that everything seems to be the same as it was. The weather, however, cannot affect his buoyed spirits. If they weren’t still searching for the Lightbringers, and now Naomi, he’d be floating on air.

Instead, he’s sitting next to Dean, who’s hunched over his cup of coffee like it holds the secrets to the universe. It was a late night last night, with their long conversation and the trip back from the interrogation, so they didn’t end up getting much sleep. Castiel himself is quite refreshed, but Dean requires more rest than he does. They didn’t even get dressed more than throwing on old t-shirts and pajama pants again before coming downstairs.

“I believe,” he says in answer to Sam’s question as he places one hand on the back of Dean’s neck and starts kneading gently, “that it was supposed to be symbolic.”

Sam frowns. “Oh… Huh. I guess that makes sense, then, why he’d choose that name.”

It’s Cas’ turn to frown. “Sam, I don’t believe he exists. Or, even, that he  _ ever _ existed. Vampires simply… We just  _ are.” _

Balthazar, from his place next to Sam, snorts disdainfully, though he doesn’t look up from the report he’s skimming through. “Speak for yourself,” he says breezily, “some of us are extraordinary.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “Regardless. Naomi was, and is still, apparently, quite unbalanced. The First is a fairy tale that vampires tell one another to assure themselves that we had a purpose, that we weren’t just created to be… Evil. To be predators. I don’t know why she’s still searching for the First, or why she ever started to, but she’s not in her right mind.”

Dean groans when Cas’ fingers hit a knot of tightly wound muscle, but both Sam and Cas ignore him.

“She is, however, extremely persuasive. They will believe her wholeheartedly because she has gotten them to love her, to trust her. That’s why they’re so dangerous, they’re entirely committed to this cause. They will stop at nothing to see Naomi’s vision through.”

Sam, wonderfully intuitive at the worst of times and cuttingly intelligent at the best, asks, quite innocently, “Cas, how do you know all of this?”

Dean stiffens beneath Cas’ hand and lifts his head to share a look with him. Castiel knows that, if he says so, Sam will accept that this isn’t information that he’s willing to share. It will be dropped, and nothing will be held against him.

He’s through letting Naomi control even that much of him, however. He will not let her or fear of her determine what he shares with his friends, his family.

“Naomi is my sire,” he says simply. “I was under her care for decades, and she was quite, ah, forceful. I’m intimately acquainted with her methods of persuasion.”

Sam’s eyes are like dinner plates. “How did you get out?”

As Sam asks, Gabe seems to materialize in the doorway from the kitchen wearing a floor-length silk robe and giant fuzzy bunny slippers. Despite what he’s wearing, the stress of the last day shows itself in his face, in the tightness he carries around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. He grips his coffee cup too tightly, and his eyes meet Cas’ as Sam asks his question.

Castiel doesn’t hesitate. “Something came along and showed me a better way.”

Gabe blinks, then smiles a little and relaxes. Though he’s rather obnoxious and flamboyant, Castiel loves Gabriel like a brother, and he wonders if he should do a better job of showing it.

_ A problem for later. _

“All right, well,” Sam says, accepting the deflection as easily as Cas suspected he would, “what should our next step be?”

Castiel actually isn’t sure what to do next. Naomi’s forces, the Lightbringers, are widespread and difficult to pin down. It took them  _ weeks _ to find Uriel, and Castiel suspects that Uriel was probably not trying all that hard to avoid being found. He has no  _ idea _ how to start looking for his mother.

“Um…  _ I _ have an idea,” Gabriel says. When all eyes are turned to him, he says, “I think we should look for the First.”

Absolute shock washes over Castiel.  _ What? _

Gabriel asked, of course, after they fled Naomi’s house, about the First. Castiel tried to keep an open mind, tried to let Gabriel make his own choices, but ultimately told him everything he knew. That all of the research he’d done for Naomi to track down Lucifer had come up empty, useless. She’d never been happy about that particular report, but in the end, Castiel had never found anything.

So it comes as a shock that Gabriel thinks they  _ can _ find the First.

_ “What?” _ Balthazar wheezes in an unconscious imitation of Cas’ own internal question.

Gabe shrugs. “Look, Uriel said that Joshua was scared at the end, right?” When Castiel nods, “To me, that says that even if the First isn’t  _ real, _ per se, maybe there’s someone out there running around, pretending to be him.”

Dean is frowning, having sat up completely when Castiel stiffened in surprise. “Okay? So?”

“I’m just  _ saying, _ maybe if someone is acting like Lucifer out there, maybe we can talk to him. Maybe let him know all of the crazy that’s about to rain down on him when these Lightbringer yahoos find him, and then maybe we can get him on our side. Maybe he has a real shot of convincing them that they’re crazy.”

Silence reigns for several moments while everyone absorbs Gabriel’s idea, until Sam speaks.

“That’s… Actually not that bad of an idea.”

Castiel blinks. “Well, it’s certainly not a  _ good _ idea.”

“Cas,” Dean says slowly. Castiel turns to look at him, and Dean looks a little rueful, apologetic, even. “I don’t think we have any other options, babe.”

Castiel scowls, but cannot think of anything else to say.

Gabe’s cheer makes all of them jump in their seats.

“Last resorts!” he crows in triumph. “Last resorts are my  _ wheelhouse. _ The old ‘it’s a bad plan, but it’s the only plan.’ My bread and butter! My-”

“Gabe,” Cas says with a sigh. “Please do shut up.”

“So  _ polite,” _ Dean snickers.

“Right,” Gabe says as he flops down into the chair at the other end of the table from Sam. “So now that we know what our next step is… What’s our next step?”

At that, Dean smiles. “Well, obviously, we call Charlie.”

* * *

“So,” Charlie says on the other end of the phone, “you want me to find someone impossibly old. We don’t know what income level, career path, or  _ continent _ we’re looking at. We don’t know what he looks like, what his interests are, who his people are, or even if he actually exists. All we  _ do _ know is that he’s incredibly unoriginal in that he goes by ‘Lucifer.’”

Castiel smiles. “I believe you are correct on all counts, Ms. Bradbury.”

“Well, jeeze, Cas. Give me something  _ hard _ why don’t you?”

Castiel tilts his head back to bump against the wall he’s leaning against. Dean had cited the need for a shower, so it had fallen to Castiel to call Charlie to ask for her help. He doesn’t mind at all, he loves the fiery little redhead as much as Dean and Sam do.

“I have perfect faith that you’ll be able to locate him.”

“Oh, man. Flattery will get you nowhere.”

Castiel laughs. “I beg to differ.”

There are a comfortable few beats of silence, then,  _ “So-o-o…” _

Castiel sighs. “Charlie-”

“Cas, I’m just  _ asking,” _ she says, voice all faux innocence.

“Well, desist. There’s no need.”

Charlie, quite true to form, ignores him. “Did he say the big ‘L’ word yet?”

Castiel sighs. “... No, but he doesn’t need to.”

Castiel has been saying the same thing for years. Somehow, long enough into their relationship that it was strange but early enough that Dean was still human at the time, Charlie found out that Dean had never expressed his exact sentiments aloud to Castiel. Once she knew, she was like a dog with a bone. She somehow knew that it bothered Castiel, even just the slightest bit, and had been running a campaign to get Castiel to confront Dean about it.

This, however, is the first time that Castiel has really  _ meant _ what he’s saying.

“I know how Dean feels about me, Charlie. We both know that he’s uncomfortable expressing his emotions verbally, but I know how he feels. I’m at peace with it.”

_ “Ugh,” _ she groans, although he can hear the smile in her voice. “Fine. Whatever. Go away and be happy and accepting of one another’s flaws or whatever. I’m gonna got catch your mythical whatsis.”

Castiel smiles. Flippant though she may be, Charlie is surprisingly fierce and earnest. Castiel considers her a good friend, and not only to Dean.

“Thank you, Charlie. We’d be lost without you.”

She sniffs haughtily. “Damn right. But don’t thank me yet. I mean, if the entire group of lunatics you’re chasing can’t find him, I don’t know what makes you think we’ll be able to do it.”

“Well, they don’t have you, of course.”

Charlie gasps. “Okay, I lied. Flattery will get you  _ everywhere.” _


	8. Chapter Eight

Research comes to a standstill while they wait. 

Now that he knows Naomi is the driving force behind the Lightbringers, Castiel can see the patterns in their behavior clearly. He berates himself for not putting it together sooner for about an hour before Dean catches onto him and manages to distract him thoroughly from his self-loathing. A few hours later, while he’s much more relaxed, he still thinks he should have connected the dots.

The waiting is  _ hard. _ Castiel is a soldier, a warrior at heart. He wants to  _ move, _ to  _ act, _ to  _ do something, _ for God’s sake.

Instead, he’s been watching television with Dean. As much as he despises inactivity, even he has to admit that letting Dean rest on top of him on the couch and fall asleep on his chest while Castiel desperately tries to understand whatever show they’re watching is an excellent pastime, far from a waste.

_ Still, _ he thinks as he squints at the television and runs his fingers through his boy’s golden hair,  _ I hope Charlie finds this Lucifer character soon. _

* * *

The morning sun is bright, making the kitchen a cheerful place several days after Castiel calls Charlie and asks her to find Lucifer. Castiel is at the kitchen table with Dean slumped next to him, his face buried in Cas’ neck and Castiel reading a local newspaper on his tablet. Balthazar is across from them, face buried in his cup of coffee as he tries to shake off  _ whatever _ it is he did last night (Castiel shudders to think). Sam is at the far end, surrounded by homework as always, and he’s glaring daggers at Gabriel.

“Sammy boy,” Gabriel is saying. “I can’t say with any  _ real _ certainty what  _ day _ it is. What the fuck makes you think I was paying attention during the Renaissance?”

Sam makes an inarticulate sound of rage. “What is the  _ point,” _ he growls, “of hanging around with all of these  _ vampires _ when none of you know anything  _ useful?” _

Castiel’s phone buzzes, but he still spares a moment to arch an eyebrow at Sam. “Is it not possible,” he asks as he reaches for his phone, “that you may be asking the  _ least _ qualified being in the room for help?”

Sam’s brow furrows, but Castiel swipes to answer and puts his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

_ “Cas!” _ Charlie’s shriek is easily heard by everyone in the room and is a terribly piercing noise in Castiel’s ear. Despite the sharp pain, Cas grips the phone tighter. An ominous creaking sound from the device has him relaxing his grip, but only by an iota. He puts it on speaker so everyone can hear her.

“Charlie,” he says, voice tight. Dean is sitting up, right next to him, eyes intent on the side of Castiel’s face. “Do you have something?”

“Oh, boy,  _ do I!” _ she crows. A shuffling, staticky sound makes Castiel think she’s dancing around in triumph. “I am the  _ undisputed Queen of everything!” _ she cries out, laughing just a bit maniacally. Castiel wonders with a sudden bolt of concern how much sleep Charlie has gotten in the last few days.

“It took  _ hours _ of research,” she’s saying, voice still nearly vibrating with energy and excitement, “and I am  _ pooped. _ I haven’t washed my hair or eaten anything but Pringles and Sour Patch Kids for  _ two straight days, _ and I had to admit to  _ Ash _ that I needed help,” this has Dean wincing, but neither of them interrupt her, “but I  _ found the motherfucker!” _

Castiel realizes that he’s grinning fiercely. “Charlie, you are truly remarkable. Indescribable. A miracle.”

“That’s right,” she says, satisfaction oozing from every syllable, “lay it on thick, my loyal subjects.”

“An angel in human form,” Sam says.

“The most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth,” Gabe says cheerfully.

“You’re all right, I suppose,” Balthazar provides, although it’s quite the compliment from him, Cas thinks.

“Truly a queen worth serving,” Dean says with a grin, his eyes dancing. “Anyone would be lucky to be but a handmaiden in your court.”

_ “Damn _ right, handmaiden,” Charlie laughs. “All right, all right. Enough of this pussyfooting around. You guys got a pen and paper or something? Because you are not gonna  _ believe _ this guy.”

* * *

Another three days of preparation, travel, and research land them in Las Vegas.

Castiel hates it on sight.

The lights, the crowds, the buzzing, electric energy about the place. Castiel has put forth an incredible amount of effort to put away his own sin, to force himself to be better, to make better choices. For someone like him to be in a place that so openly and brazenly accepts sin seems… Blasphemous, almost.

_ God forgive me, _ he thinks wryly.

Dean’s eyes are wide as he looks around, head swivelling as if on some sort of hinge. Though he hates it here, it reminds Castiel with a pang that he hasn’t had an opportunity yet to take Dean travelling with them. He promises himself that, once they’ve handled this Lightbringers nonsense, he and Dean will take the Impala and start driving, and they won’t stop until they’ve seen the entirety of this country and a couple more, to boot.

For now, he squeezes Dean’s hand where it’s held in his and lets Dean look around to his heart’s content.

Gabriel stands next to them in a horrific Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and flip-flops. He’s got big obnoxious sunglasses perched on his nose, and if Castiel didn’t love him so, he’d be embarrassed to be seen with him.

Balthazar, brooding on Gabe’s other side and dressed in very stereotypical all black with his trademark deep v-neck shirt, apparently has no such qualms. “You’re a very difficult being to be seen with often,” he says to Gabriel.

“Cool with it,” Gabe replies without taking his eyes off of the Vegas strip. “Honestly, I think I love this guy. What a great way to live.”

Castiel snorts, but he’s unsurprised by Gabriel’s enthusiasm.

Charlie found the man who calls himself Lucifer. Granted, she found quite a few of them, but she dug deep and found the one they were looking for in Nevada. He goes by Lucifer, no last name, and he owns an extremely exclusive hotel and resort named  _ Fallen. _ Charlie managed to get them a reservation there through rather shady means that were gibberish to Castiel but had Dean in hysterics.

However she did it, she must have made them seem important enough for Lucifer himself to meet with (words Castiel genuinely never thought he’d have a use for) them as soon as they’re settled in their rooms.

_ (“You’re Grecian dignitaries,” Charlie told them over the phone earlier in the day. _

_ Dean had frowned. “‘Grecian,’ Charlie? Really?” _

_ Castiel fancied he could hear her casual shrug through the phone line. “Look, buddy, you both look like gods and I needed something obscure enough to be believable. Blame yourselves for being objectively fine as hell and leave me out of it.”) _

“Regardless of how you feel about his lifestyle,” Castiel says dryly. “He will decide with his reactions today what our next step must be.” He picks up his suitcase and tugs at Dean’s hand. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

* * *

The hotel is, in a word, ridiculous.

Oh, the color scheme in the rooms, all deep royal purple, rich cream, and hints of gold here and there, is tasteful and classy, but the furnishings are  _ opulent _ and needlessly plush. They are assured by  _ every _ staff member that  _ any _ request, and heavy emphasis was put on the modifier, will be attended to quickly and without judgement or question.

It is... Unsettling.

Dean, somehow, finds it amusing. “They  _ really _ wanted to find us some hookers,” he says with a smile as they settle into their room. Balthazar and Gabriel are in their own room next door, and it’s a testament to the quality of the walls that separate them that even Castiel’s advanced hearing cannot pick up the sound of their inevitable arguing.

“It was disturbing how accommodating they wished to be,” Castiel agrees dryly as he puts his suitcase on his side of the bed next to the nightstand. “It makes me even more skeptical that he’s who we’re looking for.”

“Charlie said she and Ash are, like, seventy-five percent sure, which is almost a one hundred percent guarantee where those two are concerned,” Dean says easily. “I say we at least talk to the guy, scope him out, and if he’s not who we think he is, we at least have one guy to cross off the list.”

Castiel smiles and wraps his arms around Dean’s waist, savoring the automatic way Dean leans into him. “When did you become so level-headed and reasonable?”

Dean beams at him, making his heart thump. “It’s all a ruse. I just  _ want _ you to think that.”

Castiel nuzzles at Dean’s cheek shamelessly, love making him affectionate and stupid. “You are, by far, the most singularly spectacular being I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”

Castiel misses the rush of warm blood to Dean’s cheeks being his own, but the knowledge that the blood that makes him blush is from a donor doesn’t lessen the impact overmuch. “Stop, Cas,” Dean murmurs. “Gonna make me all stuttery for when we meet with the enemy.”

Castiel sighs and lets the playful moment drift away. “Do you think he’ll be the enemy, truly?”

Dean shrugs. “Dunno. We’ll handle it either way. Worst case scenario? He knows what’s going on and he likes it, is actively encouraging it. That would be bad.”

“And what is the best case scenario?”

“I… Don’t really know, actually.”

* * *

The meeting room they’re gathered in is just as richly decorated as the rooms themselves. Castiel feels a bit scruffy, even in his clean button-down shirt and jeans. All of them are dressed similarly, although Balthazar’s shirt has enough buttons undone to reach the middle of his chest and Gabriel’s is an eye-searing shade of pink. They tried to look the part as much as they could, but it simply didn’t take priority when they knew they were going to blow their cover almost immediately.

Dean is tense at his side, fingers tapping against the side of his leg. Castiel puts a hand on the small of Dean’s back, rubbing soothing circles there until Dean relaxes minutely.

Castiel, too, is nervous. Who is this person? If he’s not a vampire, is he still a threat? If he  _ is _ a vampire, is he a threat? Will he believe them? If he doesn’t, will he call the authorities? While Castiel doesn’t think they’ll have any trouble leaving regardless of opposition, it would be a hassle, and an innocent might get hurt.

The door at the far side of the room opens, interrupting his line of thought, and it admits a disconcertingly normal-looking man. He has light hair and a broad, handsome face with a welcoming smile. He’s wearing dark clothes, slacks and a neat button-down, and his dress shoes make no noise as he glides across the carpet toward them.

He stops a few feet from them, though, his eyes going sharp and his posture tightening.

“... Ah,” he says casually, “I suspect, then, that you’re not  _ actually _  from Greece?”

Castiel shakes his head. Everyone agreed that he should be the one who did the talking. He’s not sure he agrees with that decision, still, but he abides by it, anyway.

“We’re not, and I apologize for the deception. It was… Necessary.”

Lucifer shrugs, waving a hand dismissively. “Nah, I get it. What were you gonna say, ‘A bunch of vamps wanna meet with your vamp boss? Put us down for four-o’clock?’” He chuckles. “This was probably better. Come on! Sit, sit. It’s been so long since I had talked to another vampire, how long are you guys staying?”

Lucifer’s husky voice is earnest, eager as he waves for them to sit at the meeting table in the middle of the room. They do so warily, all of them on one side and Lucifer on the other.

He smiles. “Well, come on! What brings you to my humble abode? Hey!” He points to each of them in turn. “You guys hungry?” He winks at Dean. “You seem especially young for one of us. God, I remember  _ always _ being hungry at your age.”

Dean blinks and Castiel frowns a bit. He tells himself it’s not jealousy  _ at all _ when he says, “Actually, we’re here for a rather urgent matter,” a bit too loudly for decorum.

It’s Lucifer’s turn to blink. “Oh. Okay. What’s up, guys?”

Castiel glances at Dean, who nods a little and places his hand on Castiel’s thigh beneath the table. Cas covers Dean’s hand with his own, clears his throat a bit, and speaks.

“There is a group of vampires that have named themselves the Lightbringers. They claim to… Well,  _ worship _ you. They’re lead by a woman named Naomi, who is a vicious and quite insane creature. I believe their goal, in the end, is to bring about a world in which vampires rule over humans. I think it will be a brutal rule, should they succeed.”

Lucifer listens intently, frowning. “All right,” he says slowly. “Uh, what does that have to do with me? I’ve never even  _ heard _ of them.”

“But they’ve heard of you,” Castiel says. “They think you’re the First, and they want you to lead this new world.”

“Well, I am the First,” Lucifer says, like it’s not an insane thing to say, “but I’m not leading anyone anywhere.”

A dropped pin could be heard in the silence that ensues before Dean says, words choked and strained, “You’re  _ what?” _

Lucifer shrugs. “I mean, yeah, I’m the First, but it’s not like it comes with a lot of perks. And I don’t really hang out with vampires anymore, so I guess it doesn’t really come up all that often?”

“How can we believe that?” Balthazar demands. “How could you even prove such a thing?”

“I don’t really have an active way to prove it, but I’m indestructible,” Lucifer says, more craziness spilling from his lips like it’s nothing.

Gabe scoffs. “Look, we’re all hard to kill, but I wouldn’t-”

“No, no, I mean it,” Lucifer says, sitting up straight and leaning toward them. “I literally cannot be killed. Look, I have no solid proof that I’m the First, but I know that my first memories are of chasing down cave-dwellers who spent just as much time crouched on four legs as they did walking on two. I know that for the first eons of my existence, I didn’t meet another monster quite like myself. And, honestly, the first vampire I turned was just as much of a surprise to her as it was to me. That was Lilith, and she bolted, I have no idea where she went. Still don’t. It was  _ decades _ before I decided to try it again. The next was a guy named Zeke, and he was all right with sticking around, at least, letting me try it out on him. We turned a few more, and then here we are. So, I guess I can’t say for certain I’m the First, but if I’m not, I’m damn close. I’ve never met a vampire nearly as old as I was.

“And then, you know, there’s the complete invulnerability. I understand you guys have a sort of aversion to sunlight, right?” Lucifer shakes his head. “Not me. Hell, I set up shop in  _ Vegas. _ Sunlight doesn’t touch me. And I haven’t had an injury  _ ever. _ I mean, I  _ cannot be killed. _ You can imagine, I’m sure, how many opportunities someone has to die in a millennium or two. Accidents, assassinations, angry exes, I’ve seen it all, and honestly, none of it has even put a scratch on me. I don’t know for sure, but I’m pretty sure I’m the First.

“But, and more importantly, I’m not leading  _ anyone _ into  _ anything,” _ he says firmly. “I have literally no interest in changing the world at all.”

All of this information is… A lot. Castiel’s mind is spinning with questions, with accusations or denials or  _ something. _ He knows he should say something, ask something,  _ anything, _ but he’s honestly too in shock to do anything of the sort.

Luckily, Dean seems to be thinking clearly, at least.

“So, if they come to you,” Dean says slowly, “and ask if you’ll lead the new world, or whatever, you wouldn’t say yes?”

“Why would I?!” Lucifer cries, flinging his hands out to the side. “We’ve got such a good  _ scam _ going this way! Guys, life is so  _ good. _ I mean, I get that hiding kinda sucks, but we’re basically always in a crowd of walking Happy Meals who are none the wiser. Why the hell would we want to fuck that up?”

“Their idea,” Castiel says slowly, still struggling to parse out what exactly is going on here, “is a world in which humans serve vampires. They would give us whatever we wanted.”

Lucifer scoffs. “Buddy, they  _ do _ give me whatever I want. And they  _ pay for the privilege.” _

“I think I love you,” Gabriel says, eyes shining with mischief and admiration.

Lucifer winks. “You ever need someone to show you the ropes, I’d be happy to. It’s been a long time since I had a vampire hanging around.”

“Yes, well,” Balthazar says firmly before Gabriel can agree enthusiastically, “that will have to wait until after we deal with the Lightbringers.”

Finally, solid ground for Castiel’s overwhelmed mind to stand on. “We need your help,” he tells Lucifer. “I think they’re going to be gathering a show of force. I think having you there to negate what Naomi says will… Lessen the bloodshed.”

Lucifer nods. “Yes. I’ll help however I can.”

Cas blinks. “Really?”

Lucifer stands up. “Hell yeah! Look, whatever trouble these guys are bringing down? It’s kinda gonna fuck up this sweet deal I’ve got going on. I’m ready to help you do whatever you gotta do to get them contained.” He frowns. “Does it have to be here? Or are we going somewhere? When are we leaving?”

“Well,” Balthazar says, “we don't really know any of that yet, I believe.”

Unfortunately, that isn’t true.

“I know where Naomi will be,” Cas says grimly. He looks over at Dean, who gives him a supportive nod and squeezes his thigh gently.

“If everyone is amenable, we leave tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Let's all pretend it hasn't been two solid months, yeah?


	9. Chapter Nine

“Keep your mind clear,” Balthazar says, his voice low and even as he and Dean circle one another. “Sword high, eyes on me. You don’t need to worry about what you’re about to do, or watch what you’re about to do. You  _ know _ what to do, your body knows. What you don’t know is what  _ I’m _ about to do.”

Bal lunges, and Castiel is almost spellbound as he watches Dean block the blow. Since before Dean became a vampire he has been in combat training with Gabriel, Balthazar, and Castiel himself. Gabriel is a subpar teacher at best, and any lessons with Castiel tend to devolve into… Other activities. 

Balthazar, however, has proven to be an excellent teacher. Under his watchful eye, Dean has become quite proficient in a wide array of bladed weapons. Balthazar says he’s a fast learner, Dean says it’s easy stuff, and Cas thinks it’s unbearably attractive.

Today, however, he’s not thinking about Dean’s bare, glistening chest. Instead, Castiel is thinking about the hundreds of ways their plan for tomorrow could go wrong.

There will be no subterfuge, no infiltration, no sneaking. Naomi kept a strict eye on every aspect of her operations when Cas was with her, and he doubts she’s gotten  _ less _ paranoid since then. No, they’ll meet her face-to-face. He hopes the presence of Lucifer will keep the meeting peaceful, but they’re preparing for battle.

He  _ really _ hopes they don’t have to fight, but his centuries of experience tell him that it’s a futile wish.

“Your boy looks good,” Lucifer says from where he stands next to Castiel, just outside the ring where Dean and Balthazar are running their drill. “I mean, they  _ both _ look good.”

A beat of possessive anger makes itself known in Castiel’s chest, but he ignores it. He knows that Dean is lovely, anyone with  _ eyes _ knows that Dean is lovely, and is this even the right matter to be thinking of right now?

_ Besides, _ he thinks to himself as he watches Lucifer watch Balthazar,  _ it’s not Dean he’s admiring. _

He hums noncommittally and resumes worrying.

* * *

Later that night, Cas is attempting to distract himself from his racing mind by reading. It’s not working, but he’s giving it a shot.

Dean comes in while he’s struggling to focus, drying hair still damp from his shower. He’s silent as he tosses the towel into the hamper and pulls on a pair of briefs and pajama pants. Castiel watches him, is always watching Dean, and gives up the pretense of reading entirely. He assumes the silence is a product of the same nerves he’s suffering from until Dean seems to steel himself and comes to stand at the foot of the bed in front of Cas.

“All right,” Dean says, holding his arms out to the sides, “c’mon. Let’s fight about it.”

Cas frowns in confusion. It’s not a new feeling, since Dean often says things that confound him, but this doesn’t seem to be a reference to a movie. “Pardon?”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “Tomorrow. The plan. Confronting Naomi.”

Cas nods slowly. “... Yes?”

“Well, let’s fight about it!”

“Why… Why would we fight about that?”

Dean blinks, now also showing some confusion. “Because you don’t want me to go?”

Cas frowns harder. “I don’t?”

“... No? Like… To protect me? Or something?”

Understanding finally dawns. Castiel puts his book aside and scoots down the bed until he’s sitting in front of Dean, his knees on either side of his boy’s legs. He rests his hands on Dean’s slim hips and stares up fondly at him.

“Dean, I would, in every aspect, like to protect you. If I had my way, you would never face a moment of doubt or danger again. Unfortunately, that’s not the world we live in, and I cannot possibly protect you from everything.

“Nor can I expect you to not want to protect me in kind,” Cas says, smiling up into Dean’s surprised eyes. “This fight, I feel very much that it is my own fight. One that I have brought on myself, a mess I should have cleaned up years ago. I feel… Responsible for Naomi, the Lightbringers, and their actions." Dean opens his mouth to interrupt, but Castiel doesn’t allow him to. “However, wherever the blame lies, it is a fight I must fight. And since I must, I would be honored if you were to fight it beside me, Dean Winchester.”

Dean’s face is slack with surprise, his eyes nearly glowing with a dozen emotions Cas struggles to put a name to.

Without warning, Dean pushes him back onto the bed and crawls up to straddle him, grinning down at Castiel. 

“Goddamn,” he says, breathy and excited and maybe a bit overwhelmed. “That was quite a speech, Cas.”

“I meant every word,” Cas says earnestly, his hands resting on Dean’s muscled thighs.

Dean leans down to kiss him hard, murmuring, “I’ll just bet you did, you sap,” against his mouth.

Castiel, for a few hours, at least, stops worrying.

* * *

The next night, just after sunset, Cas’ stomach is in knots. He knows it was quite necessary for everyone to feed well before they came, considering what they’re here to do and the opposition they expect to face, but he thinks it may have made him queasier.

Dean stands next to him, tall and proud, and doesn’t look queasy at all. He’s relaxed as they observe the deceptively plain building in front of them. His leather jacket looks good on his broad frame, and it’s almost impossible to tell that he’s hiding a blade in each of his sleeves. If they weren’t in such a dire situation, Cas would find it unbearably attractive.

The trench coat he’s wearing, although necessary for the wide sleeve capable of hiding his own weapon, makes him feel a bit silly next to Dean.

He shakes off the thought and stops staring at Dean to look at  _ Heavenly Night Industries, _ one of the many small corporations Naomi owns. Castiel will never know why Naomi is obsessed with Houston, Texas, but he knew the moment he realized who was behind the Lightbringers’ insanity where she would be. She has places across the country, the  _ world, _ even, but Houston has always where she planned to start her "revolution."

It made little sense to Castiel at the time, but then, so little got through his haze of denial.

He banishes those thoughts, too.  _ Focus, _ he scolds himself, _ people are relying on you. _

He takes a deep, centering breath, draws his shoulders back, and starts briskly towards  _ Heavenly Night. _ He hears Dean and Lucifer fall into step behind him.

Lucifer has been remarkably… Casual about the Lightbringers, their mission, and their worship of him. He behaves mostly as if it’s amusing, which quite frankly boggles Castiel. The First seems to treat most things as though they’re jokes, though. Even this evening when they were gearing up, he made a quip about being “too old for all that” and firmly declined any offer of weaponry.

The knots in Castiel’s belly wind tighter.

Balthazar and Gabriel are out of sight. They’re sneaking in through the back to cut off any attempt of escape or, hopefully, ambush. Castiel also would rather die than let Naomi be in the same room as Gabriel again, but that’s a thought he keeps to himself as they get to the door.

_ Here goes nothing, _ he thinks with one last deep breath, and he opens the front door into what he can only assume will be some sort of dungeon or-

Or…

Well, the building he walks into looks for all the world like an  _ office building. _ There’s a hallway with a few closed doors along one side, the walls and carpet beige and plain. In the front area, there’s a reception desk with a pretty woman with a polite smile on her face who greets them.

“Hello,” she says in a professional, almost bored voice, “how may I help you?”

_ What is this? She's here, she must be. Surely she has not changed so much that I am mistaken.  _

Castiel was not, however, one of Naomi’s generals for nothing. Though he came with a vague plan, he easily makes alterations to it and hopes that Dean and Lucifer play along.

“We’re here to see Naomi,” he says to the receptionist.

Her smile remains firmly in place. “Do you have an appointment?”

“We don’t, but I believe she will be expecting us,” Castiel says grimly. The girl in front of him is a vampire, and he would honestly be surprised if she didn’t recognize him. 

She’s very, very good, though, because she doesn’t bat an eye, or make any indication that she knows who he is. “Of course,” she says, rising to her feet. Castiel tenses, but she simply moves around the desk and down the hall. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to Ms. Naomi’s office.”

Castiel shares wary glances with his companions before he follows the girl down the generic hall.

The girl knocks on the last door on the left. “Miss Naomi? James, Dean Winchester, and a guest are here to see you.”

The sound of his long-lost name sends chills down Castiel’s spine.  _ She does recognize _ me. The sound of  _ Dean’s _ name, though, makes all of the stolen blood in his veins freeze into a solid block of panic.

_ How does she know Dean? How long has she been watching me? How much does she know? How  _ closely _ has she been watching me? Does she know where we live? How could I ever think I was prepared for this? How could- _

Before he can spiral further into a panic, a voice from his nightmares answers, “Of course, Hannah. Let them in.”

Hannah turns, gives them a polite nod and opens the door for them.

The moment before Castiel forces himself to move is an eternity. He can feel Dean next to him, tense as a bowstring, with shallow, unnecessary breathing.  _ How _ did she know about Dean? What are they going to face on the other side of that door? Will she look the same? WIll she look different? Will she still have the same power over Castiel she did all those long, long years ago?

Lucifer, on the other hand, is still relaxed, but there is almost tangible  _ power _ in the air around him. Despite the fact that he has not physically moved at all, he has an air of watchfulness, of awareness, now. Precisely like a  _ predator. _ In this moment, Castiel believes wholeheartedly that the man standing just to his left is the First.

Strangely enough, it’s this thought that allows Castiel to move forward. With each moment, each step that brings him closer to Naomi, a feeling grows in his chest. His back straightens, his shoulders tilt back in defiance, and his chin comes up.

_ Lucifer is not the only dangerous predator here. _

As Hannah closes the door behind them with a soft  _ snick, _ Castiel lays eyes on Naomi for the first time in hundreds of years.

She looks, of course, the same. Her hair is shorter, stylish, which he should have expected. She had grey woven through her dark tresses when she took him from the orphanage, and they’re as striking as ever. Her strong features and ice blue eyes, far colder than his own have ever been, are almost enough to send him back into the past, into his dark memories.

The scent of Dean next to him, though, vibrant and warm with the blood they consumed together before they left, keeps him present. 

Naomi gives Castiel a chilly smile and folds her hands atop her desk. “James. You look well.”

_ God. _ When she’s not screaming in rage, her voice is soft and even. It stars in the only vaguely comforting memories he has from his childhood.

_ Whatever else she was, she was also my mother. _

“And you,” he says, pleasantly surprised when his own voice doesn’t waver.

_ You are a predator, a warrior. _

“I suppose,” Naomi says dryly, “it’s too much to hope for that you have seen the error of your ways and have come to join me.”

_ She intends to skip the pleasantries. That's all right. Let us finish this. _

“I will never believe that humans are less than us,” Castiel says, firm in his conviction. “And I will always see vampires as monsters.”

“We belong in the darkness,” Lucifer says, surprising Cas, “it’s why the light burns us.”

Naomi looks over at him, giving him a dispassionate once-over. “I know about your paramour, James,” Dean stiffens in surprise but stays blessedly silent, “but who, pray tell, is this?”

_ This is it. _ He hasn’t practiced what he wants to say, necessarily, but he certainly has a few main points at the forefront of his mind.

Before he can speak, however, Lucifer answers.

“I am Lucifer. I am the First that you seek,” he says, “and you are an incredibly misguided young woman.”

Dean snorts a little, and though the sound is rude in the silence, Castiel agrees. Naomi can hardly be considered “young,” although, from the First’s perspective, he supposes they’re all just babies.

Naomi’s face could be carved from granite for all that she gives away. “Are you, now?”

Lucifer nods, still relaxed and genial. “I am. I know you’ve probably seen quite a bit of time on this Earth, Naomi, and I’m sure that a lot of it has hurt. Humanity is like that, painful. But what you’re doing is not the answer. Call off your army, let me help you. You cannot imagine the amount of wealth I have, and I really-”

_ “Even if,” _ Naomi snaps, anger sparkling in her gaze, and she is suddenly much less calm and collected, “I believed you, and I assure you that I do not,” her smile becomes syrupy sweet, and apprehension builds in Castiel’s chest again, “are you really so shortsighted as to believe that this is just about  _ you?” _

Castiel blinks. “I don’t…”

Naomi stands, eyes flicking madly between the three of them. “This isn’t about  _ Lucifer, _ you  _ imbeciles. _ This is about what’s  _ ours. _ This is about an  _ ideal. _ This is about survival of the fittest. The injustice that we should bow, hide, and scramble away from creatures that are so much weaker than us. This is about taking our  _ rightful place as gods.” _

There is a beat of absolute silence before Dean snorts again. “Jesus, lady,” he murmurs.

Lucifer nods, eyes a little wide. “All aboard the crazy train, huh? You’re not hurt, you’re insane.”

Naomi swings her gaze back to Castiel, who feels it like a physical weight upon his chest. “Did you think I didn’t know that you would try to stop me, James? That you still cling to your  _ pets _ so tightly? You have no secrets from me  _ whelp,” _ she snarls. “I  _ made _ you, and I will  _ always _ be one step ahead of you.”

Castiel recognizes the changes in Naomi’s stance. Though he had many a tutor over the years, trained under many fighters under several forms of combat, his first teacher in violence was the creature before him. 

“Naomi, please-” he tries to say.

She interrupts him by hitting a button on the intercom on her desk, and all hell promptly breaks loose.

What always surprises Castiel about fighting other vampires is how incredibly  _ quiet _ it is. He supposes, if one were human, they would be surprised by the speed of it, the brutality. He was certainly surprised by his speed before he got used to it, but since he’s fighting his own kind, it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. 

And brutality is something he long ago deadened himself to.

But the  _ silence. _ There is the sound of heavy breathing, sometimes, or an involuntary grunt of pain, but vampires are by and large  _ silent _ when they fight. There are no harsh cries, no battle shouts. Just violence and pain and death. A by-product of the brutality, he supposes, of their near-immortality.

The blade he had hidden in the sleeve of his trench coat falls into his hand with the ease of centuries of practice. He gives the enemy no satisfaction of hesitation. He slashes throats, severs limbs, and separates heads from bodies of a dozen vampires. He loses himself for an unknown length of time. He can see in flashes that Dean, too, is doing well, though he has some superficial cuts on his face and one on his neck that sends Castiel into a rage at the thought of someone trying to  _ behead Dean. _

Eventually, he loses his focus on even keeping track of Dean. Castiel is a fighter by nature, fight though he does against that very nature, and he is  _ good. _ He feels how gracefully he moves, how precise his strikes are, and how effortless he makes it look. He mows through their enemies, through Naomi's forces, until he realizes that, though they are in a small space and were wildly outnumbered, they are turning the tide.

Upon the heels of that realization is the realization that the vampires he’s fighting are…  _ Young. _ Young and inexperienced. There are many of them, of course, but they’re not skilled, and some of them border on  _ clumsy _ with their weapons. Whereas Dean, who has only been undead for a few years himself, moves with purpose and elegance, these vampires are just  _ throwing _ themselves at them. It’s hardly a fight at all.

_ Children, _ Castiel thinks, his stomach turning,  _ she found children and turned them.  _

_ And I let her. _

As soon as he thinks it, Naomi is in front of him, a sword in her hand that’s remarkably similar to Castiel’s own. Her blouse is torn and there’s a cut high on her cheek that’s sluggishly oozing pinkish blood. Her eyes are crazed and manic, but focused enough to settle on him. Her mouth firms into a solemn line.

“James,” she says.

“Naomi," he rasps, his voice harsh, "stop this madne-”

He doesn’t get the first word out before she moves, and then they’re fighting. She’s been doing it longer, and probably more recently, but Castiel is stronger, faster, and has the gift of leverage. They fight like a dance, moving too fast for eyes to properly take in, and Castiel loses himself in it again.

This is not like fighting those children. It’s not like beheading Uriel. This is  _ battle _ at it’s fiercest, its purest. His blade moves as fast as his thoughts and so does Naomi’s. Though a huge part of Castiel is in mourning that this is happening, that he’s fighting Naomi herself and she has so clearly lost her mind, his inner warrior is roaring with approval at the return to its roots 

Especially when he sees an opening and takes it, slicing deep enough and fast enough into her leg that he can feel the tendons snapping beneath his blade. Naomi goes down on one knee and her blade rests in her hand as she pants, staring up at him with crazed eyes.

Silence all around him tells Castiel that either the rest of the fighting has stopped to watch them, or one side has dispatched the other. He spares a glance for Dean, who’s a bit more bloodied but is on his feet and observing solemnly, before looking back down at Naomi.

_ God, I loved you so much, _ he thinks, and he’s suddenly exhausted. He doesn’t let it show in his body, but Castiel is  _ tired. _ Not just from the fight, but from his guilt, his inner torment, his doubt and fear and self-loathing. All things that the woman in front of him gave to him.

This his mother gave to him.

“Don’t do this,” she says, soft and cajoling. “James, don’t do this. Join me. You know I’m right.”

He’s just so tired. He never expected anything to come to this. He never expected to see Naomi again, much less face her in real combat. He didn’t expect her to ambush him  _ (yes, I did), _ or to try to kill he and his companions  _ (yes, I did). _ Or maybe that’s true, maybe he did. Some part of him must have known, right? He isn’t so naive as to think she had any real  _ feelings _ for him, is he?

He puts his blade at her throat, resting the tip on her shoulder. 

“Yield to me,” he says, and his voice comes out like unforgiving gravel. “It’s over, Naomi, all but the bleeding. You know it as well as I.”

At his refusal, his thousandth refusal of her, Naomi’s face twists into a familiar, dangerous mask of fury.  _ “Never,” _ she spits. “Never, James, you were always-”

With no more ado than a strong sweep of his arm, he beheads his mother.

“My name is Castiel.”


	10. Chapter Ten

Once Naomi falls, the rest resolves itself rather simply. Or so Castiel assumes. He is consumed by watching the remnants of pale blood ooze from her neck far too slowly to be human.

Eventually, a tug at his sleeve brings him back to the present. Dean, still torn and bleeding a bit (although this blood is much darker, he’s fed more recently), is looking at him with concern shining in his green eyes.

“Hey, we gotta go, babe. Lucifer has someone coming to clean up, but we’ve gotta scoot.”

Cas nods woodenly and lets Dean lead him out of Naomi’s _(mother’s)_ office.

The hall, so bland before, is littered with bodies and blood spatters every wall _(too red, they were too young for their blood to pale, they were children)._ Cas blinks at the sight of the carnage. He’s fairly certain that Dean never actually left the office the battle started in, so that leaves-

“Yeah. All of this was Lucifer,” Dean says, reading Cas’ mind and waving a hand to indicate the bodies. “While we were in there, I guess he, uh, took care of everyone else.”

“He didn’t even have a weapon,” Cas says, a bit shaken.

Dean shrugs, apparently all right with this. “Startin’ to look like he really is the First.”

Castiel is suddenly fervently grateful that Lucifer, who is an ancient and deadly entity, has no higher aspirations than owning a club in Las Vegas. And that he is on their side and, to all appearances, even likes them.

Dean once again takes the lead out of the building and Cas keeps his eyes on the back of his head instead of the death around them.

_Naomi is dead. I killed her. I’ll have to call Anna and tell her. If she’ll even answer the phone when she sees it’s me._

They step out into the night. It’s quiet and cool, a blessing. A gentle wind takes the scent of dead vampires away and replaces it with the scent of grass, cars, humans, and darkness.

The SUV that brought them here is parked right out front, across several parking spaces. Gabe is leaning against the back of it, not looking at them, his phone pressed to his ear. Though he appears to be engrossed in his phone conversation (Being berated by Kali for recklessness, if Cas’ own ears don’t deceive him), the way his shoulders relax almost unnoticeably betrays his relief.

A bit further away, it looks like Balthazar and Lucifer are having a hushed argument. Well, Balthazar is arguing, Lucifer is as unworried as he has been for the last two days, maybe even a bit amused. As Castiel watches, Bal seems to run out of steam. Once he’s quiet for a moment, Lucifer reaches out to touch his arm, briefly at first, then curling around Bal’s bicep almost familiarly, warmly. Bal relaxes into the touch and Lucifer smiles.

 _Oh,_ Cas thinks, a bit beyond the ability to actually be surprised. _Well, then._

Before he can think much more on it, Dean is tugging him around to look at him properly. The frown doesn’t mar his handsome features, but makes them more intense, serious, masculine. 

“Dammit, Cas,” Dean murmurs. “What’d they do to you?”

He can feel, rather distantly, that there is a cut on his forehead that stings and is bleeding more than he’s used to (he, too, fed more recently). He knows his coat is torn, but doesn’t realize that his arm has taken a hit until Dean prods at it and scowls when Cas flinches. There are various scrapes and bruises, all quite expected from having been in the kind of skirmish they were in, but Castiel barely feels any of it.

What he _does_ feel, however, is an almost staggering wave of absolute adoration for the young man _(vampire)_ in front of him.

Because this is how Dean has always reacted when Castiel has been even the slightest bit injured. Always a bit accusing, a bit angry, and mostly worried sick. Dean is muttering about getting blood into him when they get home, ignoring that Dean himself has a few wounds that are just this side of significant.

Dean, who worries about Castiel. Who makes sure he eats and rests. Who has taught him how to have fun for the sake of fun, be it watching movies or making out in a hallway like teenagers about to be caught by their parents. Dean, who loves his brother and surrogate father fiercely, who protects the little family they’ve created staunchly and without apology. Dean, who came into Castiel’s rigid, structured world, with tears in his eyes for his mother’s doormat and a quip on his tongue for the dangerous being in his living room.

Dean, who he loves _so much._

“Dean,” he says before he realizes he’s going to speak. “I love you.”

Dean stops his muttering. His head whips up and he stares at Cas, eyes wide, his mouth dropping open just a bit.

He’s too tired to really worry, but he does rush to explain, “I don’t expect anything reciprocal, Dean, but I wanted you to know how important you are to me. You’re quite precious, really, and I love-”

Lips slapping against his own stop his fast words, and he manages to catch Dean’s hips in his hands when Dean shoves him back against the van and kisses the hell out of him. It takes him a beat, but Cas manages to catch up and kiss back, clutching Dean closer.

“Love you, too,” Dean murmurs against his mouth, “love you, Cas, of _course_ I do, you big idiot, I can’t-”

 _“Oh-kay!”_ Gabriel’s voice has them pulling away from one another, but not all the way. Cas keeps his arms around Dean when they both turn to glare at the shorter vampire.

Gabe’s eyes are sparkling even as they roll in his head. “As much fun as it would be to watch you two break some laws, and it _wouldn’t be,_ can we go home before you tear each other’s clothes off? I got an angry girlfriend to soothe, and Bal and Lucifer gotta canoodle, too.”

“Excuse you,” Balthazar says stiffly. “I do not _canoodle.”_

Lucifer grins and throws an arm around Balthazar’s shoulders. “I do!” he says cheerfully.

There is so much left to concern him. The Lightbringers, though they are without their guiding force, still need to be tracked down and dealt with. Dean, though he has taken to immortality remarkably well, is liable to spiral now that they do not have a set, definable goal to work toward. Castiel, himself, is probably going to need _loads_ of therapy (Charlie’s turn of phrase, and quite accurate). Will Lucifer go back to Las Vegas, and will Balthazar follow? Hell, will _Gabriel_ follow?

In that moment, however, surrounded by most of his family and with the love of his long, long, _long_ life in his arms, Castiel can do little but laugh, and be grateful that he had the foresight to take that invitation offered to him by a rug so long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- And so here we are, at the end. _Come On In_ started with a dumb little idea I had one night while watching TV with my husband, and now here we are. I loved this fic so much, and this series. Thank you so much, all of you, for loving it right alongside me.  
>  \- Shout out to Dragon67 for spotting the Balthazar/Lucifer connection and pointing it out to me!  
> \- In case you were wondering, Lucifer and Balthazar totally run away together to track down the last of the Lightbringers and end them. Gabriel and Kali end up together, and when Balthazar doesn't want to settle down and Lucifer doesn't want to leave Balthazar, Luci gifts Gabriel with _Fallen._  
>  \- And, obvs, Cas and Dean live happily ever after... Forever.


End file.
